


A Fate Unknown: DAO & DAII

by TruthandChaos



Series: A Fate Unknown [1]
Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-18 19:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 101,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20196676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruthandChaos/pseuds/TruthandChaos
Summary: When you're stuck in Thedas, you do what Thedians do? I guess?





	1. Part 1, Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is LONG. The original took me five years to write. It is over 100k words, nearly 200 pages and broken into Part One: DAO and Part Two: DAII.
> 
> This is cross posted to FFNet.
> 
> This is NOT a self insert. Elyria is a purposed character from another older story.

* * *

Chapter 1:

Honestly I have no conception of how I possibly could have ended up here. Thedas, to me as well as a great number of other people where I’m from, is a fictional world. The setting for two video games, some comics and a couple of books I think. Another video game was in the works from what I understood, but that is neither here nor there at the moment. Where I’m from there are stories, novels, and movies about people ending up in other worlds. Places where they’re not supposed to be. They fuck up the story line, some big bad comes to the forefront and the protagonist gets a good dose of humility to temper their all knowing hubris. It happens all of the time in fiction.

Yes I watch, well watched as it is a lot of Doctor Who and Supernatural.

I used to watch Buffy and Angel too.

Sleepy Hollow.

Torchwood.

The list goes on…

Being here, getting here, arriving here, it didn’t happen like it does in the stories. I wasn’t walking, jogging, running, alone on a moonless night only to be accosted by a mugger or worse. I didn’t fall asleep watching television. I didn’t make a wish on a questionable, ancient looking oil lamp. There were no magical, twinkling fairies handing out wishes. No mischievous djinn twisting hopes and desires into horrifying realities. No witchcraft gone wrong or invocation gone sideways. I didn’t fall down a proverbial rabbit hole. I didn’t fall asleep listening to a story.

I didn’t die.

I sat in the quad at school playing with an app on my phone, killing time between classes. The one pm economics lecture with my least favorite professor had been unceremoniously cancelled. No explanation. Not that I wanted to attend anyway. The only reason I even enrolled in the class was because my parents wanted to have some control over my course load. My mother feared me becoming a tomboy (and thus – with her 1950’s values of womanhood – never getting married) and my father worried that my major wouldn’t get me anywhere in life. Or serve to get me a better job than a checkout clerk at Macy’s.

My next class at two thirty would have been History of Rock and Roll. We were supposed to watch the new  **Rock of Ages** over the weekend as homework and come up with a dozen comments or questions about the movie. Afterward I would have gone to my favorite class of the day, Fencing 302, an upper level that only a handful of people got into due to requirements and prerequisites. The last class I would have attended was the class that made my father flip-out and demand I start taking my future seriously.

An upper level art class with professor Moonbeam Starfire. Yes, that is her real name. No, really. Her parents were commune hippies that opened a bed and breakfast later in life. She, according to her confessions, has a brother named Ash Currant and a younger sister named Willow Fawn. I kind of envied her.

I sat out on the lawn of the Dawkins building, listening distantly to the sound of the ducks in the pond while I killed zombies on my Android. I remember feet walking past my line of vision and the sounds of other people laughing or talking. Snippets of conversations out of context, forgotten a heartbeat after they passed. I saw people on phones, or talking on Bluetooth headsets. I remember distinctly seeing the red brick of the Mitchell building across the street from me for quite some time.

The last thing I recalled before realizing that I wasn’t in Kansas anymore, I waved to my history professor as he went into the building. Doctor Dave with his studded diamond earring in one ear, ever present 5 o’clock shadow and rich Scottish brogue said he would see me in class in a bit. I remember standing up if only to shuck the weight of the plain beige Old Navy spring jacket I added to my dark blue Air Force hoodie before leaving for class this morning. April showers might bring May flowers, but they also brought temperamental rain storms and winds that whipped like Moffat’s version of Irene Adler. 

I left on my scarf too, beige, blue and green cashmere number I adored.

The sun had long since come out to shine and heat the air. I felt warm and sleepy with all the layers on, but unlike the people that lived this far north I knew better than to take them all off in favor of my t-shirt and jeans. A good arctic wind would break my immune system like an uncooked egg shell. Once the jacket was folded up and put away, I took off my headphones too. The steady drum beat of  _ Sour Cherry _ shut off mid chorus. 

Now I’m not like a lot of people I know that crank up the volume until it rivals the sound of a jet engine. I keep it low enough so that I can drown out the mundane but still pick my name up if said at a slightly higher than average volume. I think, in total, I may have been looking down for all of two to three minutes. Maybe.

When I looked up again, note book and Kindle in hand (because downloading my text book as I passed the library every day made was so much cheaper than actually  _ buying _ it) I realized that Kansas was far away. Well, technically New York State, but it may well have been Kansas for all I knew. Instead of the sparsely spaced trees of the quad – a green field area formed by the Hudson, Dawkins and Heaver buildings that was home to a small pond at the center – I found myself standing in a marsh. Literally.

Trees, foliage and marshland as far as the eye could see.

The low sitting stone wall that surrounded the Hawkins building, the one I’d been waiting on not five minutes ago, no longer sat behind me. Nothing but a small clearing, no more than twenty paces in either direction stood at my back. The synapses in my brain misfired several times before I realized there was something rotten in the state of Denmark. Bewilderment gave way to uncertainty, uncertainty to denial, denial to indignation, indignation to dread, and finally dread to the sobering realization that my cozy little college town was not anywhere near by.

I think I may have skipped negotiation as a step, but basically I went through the stages of grief in a handful of seconds. The emotions of course would repeat, continuously, for quite a bit more time afterwards. Feeling like a fish out of water I grabbed in my bag for my phone. No signal. Despite the disheartening slash through the tiny white cell tower in the corner of the screen I tried GPS. When that failed I tried 911, because that usually goes through no matter what kind of cell tower is in the vicinity.

Nada. Nothing. Not even the irritating sound of an electronic call cannot connect message. What the fucking hell?

Which left one of two options, either I was somewhere without cell reception or I was somewhere there could not be any cell reception. Similar as the two seemed to be, they weren’t in the slightest. The first implied that the area near and around where I ended up lacked reception but eventually I could walk my way into an area with reception. The latter stated simply that I would be, could be, in a place that didn’t have any form of cell tower. An idea which brought on a minor panic attack as I stood there staring at the completely useless phone in my hand.

I used to watch a lot of Outer Limits, Stargate, Haven too. Although I knew without a doubt that I hadn’t accidentally invoked the wrath of any ancient alien gods or locked in any star signs with my phone. No television set to mess with. No strange apps for my Kindle.

Hands shaking, I turned the phone off and put it away. If I couldn’t GPS my way out of these woods then sure as hell no one could find me here even if they knew to look. Better to save the battery. I charged it that morning thankfully. My mild OCD refused to let me ignore charging anything for more than a twenty-four hour period, especially my phone. Realizing I needed to save the battery life on anything and everything I had with me, I set to shutting everything down. My Kindle, and my iPod.

I checked the pocket in my bag that I kept generic WalMart brand granola bars in, finding happily I did indeed stock it yesterday when I reminded myself to. The twenty ounce bottle of Poland Spring I stuck in my bag this morning sloshed a little as things moved around. My wallet, intact with my debit card, driver’s license, student ID and sixty four dollars left over from my shopping at the grocery store yesterday morning. A Strawberry Lemonade lollipop, half a bag of sour gummies, a balsa wood plane they were handing out by my dorm this morning to advertise some new aviation model store opening in town, art supplies and my sketch book, binder, my keys, makeup clutch, hand cream, and my lucky stuffed owl; Herbert.

Jesus I had a lot of crap, no wonder my bag weighed so effing much.

I used this jumbo blue-green striped messenger bag I picked up at the Christmas fair back home over the winter break. The woman at the kiosk managed to talk me into a lot, like a pair of Claddagh rings for my boyfriend and I. Unfortunately said boyfriend chose the day after our return to school to end our relationship. I kept the rings on a necklace under my clothes on the same chain I kept the oval locket with my grandparent’s wedding photo, and the wooden turtle charm my best friend used to wear around his wrist.

Thinking about my best friend made my throat tight. If he were here he’d know what to do. 

The cold weather felt heavier here than it did back in New York. The damp seemed to settle into my sweatshirt quickly, sending a slick cool shiver down my back. I pulled out my jacket again, donning it. Something silver and worn caught the light before I could drop the flap back into place over my bag. I reached in for it and almost sighed in relief. I forgot about Cody’s utility knife. His mom gave it to me after the funeral. She said she couldn’t have his things in the house, his stepfather wouldn’t have it. She gave me the totem the same day.

Throat constricted and sore I fought back tears.

Crying wouldn’t do me any good, and it would waste valuable energy. It would also lead me to freaking out which I could absolutely  **not** afford to do. I could freak out once I found somewhere safe for the night. Oh, I had hours and hours until evening and sunset, I could tell by the height of the sun overhead. At least time hadn’t gone funny on me. It was still a little before, maybe a little after, two in the afternoon.

Taking several deep, slow breaths I looked for moss on the trees. All of my hiking trips in the Catskills alongside Cody left me with a handful of useful knowledge. Moss grew on the north side of a tree because it could only survive outside of direct sunlight. Using the utility knife to remove the bark of trees as I passed, I went north and somewhat east. Right handed people tended to walk more heavily toward their right, where left handed people walked heavily to their left. So north, and a little east. I hoped by ripping a patch of bark off trees as I passed it would keep me from walking in a completely useless circle.

The sun seemed to slide a little lower while I walked. Just as I began to fear not being able to find shelter for the night my eyes fell on something in the distance. Water, a flowing stream. Unlike the waterways back home, there weren’t soap bubbles, discarded candy wrappers or decrepit looking water bottles lining the banks. No chemical run off at all from what I could tell. Still, I dipped one finger into the icy water then dripped a few drops on my tongue.

Clean. If it had been bitter I would have spit it out and moved on. Instead I filled up the space in my water bottle before following the flow of water in the opposite direction.

The stream flowed south, away from me. I figured that if I managed to get far enough north I might eventually run into people. Unless, of course, there were no people to be found. I shuddered at the idea and kept going. My stomach started to rumble in the first alert that I was missing dinner with my roommate and friends in the dining hall. I wondered if maybe Emma would try my cell when I didn’t show. Or if she’d chalk it up to me pulling another all nighter in the library again.

A few handfuls of water from the stream quieted my stomach but I’d need food sooner or later. The package of granola bars I dumped in my bag yesterday only held six. I’d need to either forage or dredge up the vague-ish memory of how to make a trap for fish. I didn’t recognize the vegetation and I’m not much for building fires. Not too bad at fishing with a fishing pole, my granddad taught me how.

The first ruin came into sight by the time the sky began to turn pinkish in color. I ran all the way to the leaning archway, solid white marble, smooth and just a little warm under my hand. If I had thought before that I might still be somewhere in America, the idea went out the window with the certainty of being on Earth as well. As I looked up at the vine covered broken down masses of white-grey stone jutting out of the ground I came to a horrifying realization.

“Toto,” I murmured looking around and around until my brain and eyes began to hurt from vertigo, “we are  _ so _ not in Kansas anymore.”

I sat down by the ruins and downed a few pieces of the gummi sours. If I succumbed to shock there wouldn’t be anyone to help me. Water, a handful of colorful red, blue and orange later, my hands stopped shaking. I licked the sugar from one hand then washed it in the waterway. It had begun to widen from a flowing stream to a babbling brook. Hopefully it would lead me toward a town or village of some kind. Where they spoke English. Or a semblance of English.

My head still spun a little from occasionally looking up to keep my way. I’ve always been prone to vertigo. Which is why I cannot play first person shooters for very long. I’m more of an RPG person. Skyrim addict or so says Emma’s boyfriend. Though I recently had been spending a lot of time playing through Dragon Age Origins and Dragon Age Two again. If only to give myself a few more options by the time DA3 came out.

And that, as they say, was when it hit me.

After the requisite panic attack, the umpteenth roll through the stages of grief – I must be one odd duck for not hitting the negotiating stage, seriously – I threw up. It was good that I’d managed to find a decent enough water source because I just couldn’t fight off a good old selfish ‘why me’ cry. The only thing I didn’t do was scream my effing lungs out. Mostly because I was terrified I’d attract darkspawn.

Over and over in my head I kept coming up with reasons why I couldn’t possibly be in a video game. First, shit like that didn’t happen in the real world. Second it was a god damn  _ video game _ . Not real. As in not part of existing reality. Third, fucking hell.

I scrubbed my face with the water from the brook. I went against my nature and sent up a silent prayer to whoever might be listening, be it God, Jesus, The Maker or Andraste to please, please let me get out of this intact. I’m not much of a religious person, never have been, but I would take what I could get. Especially now.

I forced my legs to get me up and move. I breathed out and then in and out again to steady myself. If I were in Dragon Age then I probably started out in Origins. I looked up at the ruin as I passed it, my sneakers tracking against dewy grass. In the Kocari Wilds.

Meaning there could be hundreds of darkspawn a careless footstep away. I had to follow the river and hope it brought me north to Lothering. Or (Holy Christ I hope to hell not) Ostagar. An involuntary shudder went down my spine. If I did happen to be in Thedas, in Ferelden, I had no time frame for when I arrived. In the game I started back home I already recruited the Dwarves and put that asshole Beheln on the throne. I only did it for the achievement. Last play though I picked Harrowmont. Then again I’d been an Aeducan. I found getting Paragon status at the same time as sticking it to a scheming sociopath a bit of a kick.

Jesus.

Okay, I had to think. I had to figure this out.

I had two other open games that hadn’t left Ostagar yet. The first Aedan Cousland rogue, an archer who only just picked up the quests before I quit. The other, also a rogue, female though Lyna, one of the Dalish dual wielding who went through the joining but hadn’t spoken with Loghain, King Calin or Duncan yet at the war council. 

Assuming nightfall meant the battle would begin I needed to clear out soon. Before the shit hit the proverbial fan. No, more than that, I needed to find a high spot and…

Shortening the strap to the point my messenger bag didn’t bounce off my hip anymore I grabbed hold of a sturdy looking branch above my head. I’ll admit to not having climbed a tree since, oh say, junior high. But, just like riding a bike, you never forget how. Hand over hand, thank you fencing for upper body strength, my feet planted in the right places I managed to haul myself up a fairly tall Willow tree.

Trees, wetlands, pools of water and small hills toward the west. East of course held the brook that looked as if it ended in a pond about half a mile away. Beyond that stood the granite grayish-white stone of Ostagar. I knew it by the towering arches that seemed to breach the sky. No sounds of battle though. No sounds of troops moving or the raucous howling bay of a darkspawn horn into the night.

My heartbeat kicked up in my chest. I could get there, walk there in about a half hour if I hauled ass. My whole body gave a sigh of relief at finding some semblance of civilization. I almost forgot a handful of simple problems as I sat there straddling a heavy tree branch. Almost.

How would I explain myself to anyone who asked? Looking down at my clothing reminded me that I did not look like I belonged. Dark blue jeans, brand new from Old Navy paired with grey, pink and white sneakers. An Air Force hoodie, a spring jacket and under those a blue long sleeve Henley, a graphite grey t-shirt and a plain black ribbed tank. And my undies of course. 

I’m from southern New York, where it is a little bit warmer year round okay? 

Skin prickling with gooseflesh I eased my way down the tree until my feet touched grass.

“Maker’s breath!” Someone cried from behind me.

I let loose a little scream of fright, jumping and turning and then flailing like a mad woman. Four men, all of them a lot taller than me. One balding guy with a hand on his sword – holy effing shit an actual broadsword – another guy with a skeever’s face, dressed all in leather and…

The synapses in my brain misfired again.

People talk about seeing their creations brought to life from book to movie, but holy baby Jesus it is an entirely different story when you see your video game avatar in reality. It’s an utterly singular experience.

When I created Aedan I spent a hell of a lot of time working on his face because the presets just out and out sucked monkey balls. Baboon balls at that. His angular cheekbones in real life were just as drool worth as I imagined and the hair I downloaded from the Nexus really did make him look a little wild and untamed. Which had been the plan. And those eyes, I actually liked the dark blue presets that came with the game, but Christ in heaven  _ those eyes _ . I could drown happily in those twin pools of cool blue.

I feared salivating.

I thought about my make up and thanked whatever power in charge for my use of waterproof mascara this morning. 

“One of the chasind,” a distinctly familiar voice said.

I admit to being one of those girls whose skirts lift at the idea of romancing Alistair. I did it twice when I first got DA:O, one a female Cousland who of course became queen to his king. The other an Amell mage who sacrificed herself to kill the Archdemon. I didn’t realize the conversation Leliana had with my avatars about Alistair’s athletic body type actually would suit him if he were real. Broad shoulders, warm skin, eyes that threatened to melt my panties off.

Though most of that went out the window when I realized he said I was one of the wilder folk. Bristling, “I am  _ not _ chasind.” The four sets of eyes on me made me think better of my anger once the words were out of my mouth. Their primarily six foot plus heights put them at a distinct advantage over my own five foot four. Holding tightly to the strap of my messenger bag, I stood my ground and tried at least to stare them down.

There were a lot of things I could have said. Should probably have said. What I did say though was: 

“God damn it.”

Language from a woman didn’t seem to faze anyone except Alistair. Who had unceremoniously pulled Aedan off to the side and stood vehemently debating with him about little old me. What to do with me, or who I could be as it were. Ser Jory stood nearby with one hand on his broadsword, his eyes drifting over the landscape only to settle on me after each scan. Daveth on the other hand leaned nonchalantly against one tree and watched me with a growing, lecherous, leer.

A rogue, though not in the handsome devilish kind of way he reminded me quite a bit of a skeever. Which is to say an oversized, ornery  _ rat _ . 

I’m not the type of person who doesn’t mind being stared at, so when his eyes had lingered on me upwards of three solid minutes I started to get annoyed with him. I could make the allowance that my clothes were strange and the plastic claw holding my hair back had sparkles melted into it. I’ve been told a number of times that I’m very pretty, with mint-green eyes and wavy pale blonde hair that Emma thinks looks like sunlight and moonlight interwoven. My skin, from all the outdoor activities I’ve participated in over the years has this permanent tan, not dark but warm.

English/Swedish/Native American heritage my grandfather said.

But I was tired of being watched.

“Is there something you wanted,” I asked Daveth with a scowl, “or are you just going to keep looking at me like you’re trying to get my clothes off with your eyes?” I don’t like Daveth, though I do pity him. My dislike for his short lived character began when my very first NPC came across him accosting a female soldier with the old ‘we could die tomorrow’ line. 

He seemed to take my ire in stride, his mouth moving upwards at one corner for a scoundrel’s smirk. “Now how do you know what I am thinking or not? I could be wondering where you got them strange clothes you have on.”

I could have gone through the small rant of how they weren’t strange clothes where I’m from. In a crowd in my world I would have just been another person dressed like everyone else. Instead I called him out on his obvious lechery, “Then why do you keep staring at my chest?”

He shrugged, completely at home with his tactlessness.

I groaned audibly and shifted away. I could practically feel him staring at my ass. Waiting while Alistair and Aedan (try saying that three times fast) visibly argued over my presence. I couldn’t be sure what they were trying to figure out whether to take me with them or take me back to Ostagar or leave me to the Wilds. They walked far enough away to void any eavesdropping I might have done. When they found me and Alistair asked me what I was doing out here if I wasn’t one of the chasind, I hadn’t been very forthcoming. I did try to stick to the truth though.

I gave them my name, explained I was lost and I wasn’t quite sure where I was or how I got there. I’d been walking for at least an hour, maybe two. The things that wouldn’t have Alistair’s Templar sensibilities tingling with ‘apostate’ notions. Though…I really hadn’t tried magic as of yet. Having watched a lot of Once Upon A Time, the idea of wielding primal spells with my fingertips left me all kinds of curious.

Mages here used a staff to conduct magical power, but they didn’t need it for basic spells. I thought about forming a ball of magic with my left hand. It didn’t work. I sighed. No magic for me then. Oh well.

“She could die out there!” Aedan’s voice went up in an angry shout. He made a motion, one that said he was done arguing and walked away from a troubled looking Warden. I felt a little bad for Alistair. I chose Aedan’s personality to be wise and his responses as cynical/comical.

Once he came within a few feet of me he gave me a short, quick bow, “My lady, I’m afraid we’re too far into our tasks to turn back. If you wouldn’t mind accompanying us the rest of the way, I promise we will help you once we are finished.”

Knowing he was born into Teryn’s family didn’t stop me from being almost amazed that he called me ‘my lady’ and bowed to me. I felt my skin turning beet red, “You don’t have to. I mean, thank you, I mean…” I flushed and hated myself for stuttering. God damn it. I opened my mouth to untie my tongue when the first clicks sounded.

Not too loud, but loud enough to echo in my ears.

I felt my eyes go wide of their own volition as thin threads of fear crept up my spine.

Genlock rogues.

And I didn’t have any weapons. 

Aedan took me by the arm, pushing me back toward the tree, “Climb.” I didn’t need to be told twice. I grabbed hold of the branch over my head just as the first one appeared. Battle cries went up and the clash, clash, bang of swords hitting armor and shields resounded. I watched blood so deep red it almost looked black spill from the severed limb of a genlock. My stomach roiled at the sight. 

Fake blood on the movie screens, no problem. Darkspawn gore, yeah, problem.

Alistair’s blade went through the neck of another one, one good jerk and half of the genlock’s neck split open, blood spilling down its tarnished armor. Daveth and Ser Jory ended the existence of the last one, two blades to the back, broadsword through the stomach. In all, maybe they’d been fighting a handful of minutes.

I, on the other hand, had wrapped my legs and arms around the tree branch I’d settled on about ten feet up. When in doubt, blend into the scenery. I wasn’t sure if the genlocks would have cared about me or not. Better safe than sorry considering my only weapon was Cody’s utility knife. I waited until the four men were cleaning their blades of darkspawn blood before coming down.

Feeling like one of those young, frail things I read about in bad harlequin romance novels, I dropped out of the tree. I needed a weapon. Not just to assuage my mildly wounded pride, but to possibly keep me alive.

“Can you use a bow, my lady?” Alistair asked as he began pulling open his pack.

“Not very well,” I admitted. I didn’t fail archery necessarily. I dropped out of archery class before I could get a chance to flunk out last semester. Took the withdraw on my permanent record with a held up chin as it were. “I’m better with a blade.” Though fencing, much like sex, didn’t end up with anyone getting injured if you were doing it the right way. Unless, of course, that was your kink. 

The Templar/Warden looked at me for a moment, seeming to study me.

To put the argument to rest, his eyes are a very dark green with strikes of topaz through the iris. Up close, his eyes are very, very pretty. Just saying.

He made a decision and pulled a weapon out of the tan and brown satchel. A weapon that probably should not have fit in his pack from the size of it. I always wondered if the backpacks in my Dragon Age game were enchanted. They had to be to store that much stuff and not have the wearer fall over from the weight of everything they might have been carrying. I know I used to carry maxed out stacks of Greater Lyrium potions and Major Health Poultices.

I didn’t know what sort of sword it was, though I did know it was not a darkspawn blade. Those, as I’d recently seen, were ugly and permanently stained rust brown with blood and other unidentifiable fluids. Mine was an iron, maybe steel, longsword. Heavier than the saber I used while fencing. I wouldn’t need two hands for it, but it would wear me out if I didn’t use two hands. Inclining my head to him I said, “Thank you.”

His ears turned a little pink at the tips, “We should, ah, go.”

The men put me in the middle with, I suppose, noble notions of defending me and/or keeping me alive until they could go back to Ostagar. I didn’t know what I would do if they took me back there. Flemeth’s winged incarnation only had two claws, one for Aedan and one for Alistair. My stomach sank with the knowledge that unless I figured out something to do, somewhere to go, to run, I would undoubtedly die in this world.

Thankfully Ser Jory walked directly behind me. I don’t think Daveth’s face might have survived if I turned around to catch him watching my ass again.

The wilds looked much different than it did on screen. My graphics card is high end (thank you student loan refund checks) and my computer’s processor was a 4g dual core so I play on ultra-high quality. Three dimensional reality still kicked it into oblivion. As much as I’d gone camping and hiking throughout my life, I still had never seen nature as wild as it was here. I felt like a tourist seeing Manhattan for the first time. The people I used to laugh at and dodge around while my friends and I shopped. The ones that went still on the pavement and stared up at the towering skyscrapers over head, metal and glass gleaming in the sunlight.

Only one thing stood out to me while we moved something that chilled me to the bone. There were no birds chirping. No frogs croaking from their lily pads in the marshy water. No squirrels chattering at each other over food. The sounds of the woods had gone much to quiet in response to the darkspawn invasion.

I felt like every footstep we made echoed even if I knew the grass muffled most of our movements.

So enraptured was I that almost missed the first signs of an imminent battle. These men had never come here before, but I had taken at least three of them through this before. I knew where we were. Sticking out of the ground in front of some grey-white marble ruins were stripped wooden logs covered in darkspawn ‘art’ or whatever it was actually called. The bottom dropped out of my stomach at the same time my adrenaline went into overdrive.

As if on cue, Alistair slowed in front of us his hands moving for his sword and shield, “Darkspawn.”

Ser Jory took me by the shoulder, pulled me away and pushed me to the side. Very noble of him.

“Daveth,” Aedan called back as he and Alistair moved forward into oncoming darkspawn, “protect the lady Elyria.”

Who says chivalry is dead?

I could practically feel the dull pluck, pluck, pluck of Daveth firing off arrow after arrow in my bones. The other men took down the lower level hurlock and went after the emissary. The rule, at least in the video game world, is kill the casters first worry about melee later. Good to know it’s a factor in real life – did I just refer to this world as real? Fuck my life… – as well.

That didn’t stop the archer behind the barricade though. It let out that cackling, tick, tick of a sound as it fired toward Daveth and me. I sidestepped bringing up the blade in time to deflect. The arrow buried itself in the ground a foot and half behind me. I could feel my adrenaline racing and the cold sweat of fear down my back. All jokes aside, I wasn’t ready to die.

And that is when I blacked out.


	2. Part One, Chapter Two

Chapter 2: 

Emma crouching over me was the first thing I could really see. I blinked against the sunlight filtering through the glass windows of the Hawkins building. Lifting a hand to shield my eyes I cast around blearily. The face of my classmates from History of Rock and Roll watched me with varying degrees of concern, annoyance, curiosity and fascination. Emma’s hand pressed against my forehead, “Hey,” her voice softly accented Brooklyn tones said, “how do you feel?”

Honestly? Like I’d gone batshit crazy. I closed my eyes and breathed in. Filtered air, the smell of dust burning a little from the heaters and the mix of cologne, perfume, deodorant and the like had never smelled better to me. Emma’s own peaches and sunflowers body spray made me want to reach out and hug her. I grabbed her hand and, with my eyes still closed said, “Tell me I passed out.”

The concern in her voice frightened me a little, “No, you had a seizure.” She forced my right eye open, “El, you never said you were an epileptic.”

Slapping her hand away in anger, “I’m  **not** .” We’ve been roommates for three and a half years of college, there was no way I would have been able to hide epilepsy from her for so long. I pushed up into a sitting position, feeling the rush of blood at the same time it roared in my ears. I put a hand out and Emma grabbed hold. “Holy shit,” I muttered grabbing my left side temple and closing my eyes.

Doctor Dave spoke into his cell phone only a couple of feet away, “Yes, she’s awake. I’ll send her down. Thank you.” He put the iPhone back in his pocket, “Miss Flores you may take Miss Duke down to the health center if she can make the walk.”

I scowled at him, then Emma. My legs wobbled under me as I tried to stand. “Nucking futs,” the mixed up cursing slipped from between my lips. Woozy did not even cover the way I felt. The only description I managed to cover with my addled brain was simply this:

It felt like a migraine combined with an overstuffed pressure cooker while tripping on acid. The world moved around me every time I blinked. Emma helped me into a seat. She asked Doctor Dave to call an ambulance. Who said premed students didn’t know anything? She did. Enough to know something was wrong with me.

Putting my head between my legs did absolutely nothing for it. Vaguely I heard Doctor Dave talking to someone, either 911 or the health center. Emma stroked my hair and back, telling me to breathe deeply. Some of the other people in my class speculated as to what happened. A couple thought I was drunk. Someone else thought I was diabetic and hadn’t taken my insulin. One person, just one, thought I was having a heart attack.

Thinking about how ridiculous that was made me want to laugh. A heart attack at twenty? Certainly I was a little overweight, but not unhealthily so. I’d put on the freshman fifteen plus another five during sophomore year. That did not mean I was having a fucking heart attack.

Nausea hit me again, like a bag of bricks dropping right on my stomach and brain at the same time. The pain practically dragged me out of my seat and back onto the floor. Scrunching up into a little ball of agony, and nausea I lay there with Emma stroking my hair. The windows to the classroom were opened letting in frosty November air. The breeze mixed with the warm air that smelled faintly of burnt dust from the radiators. The slightest movements sounded like stomping elephants to my ears. The smell of dust and cold November from outside hit my nose and then…well then my brain went woosh again.

Face planting into the grass isn’t any more graceful than it looks, but at least the grass was soft and the ground only a little harder. Thankfully my brain case felt better. I did a push up off the ground and found the long sword Alistair had given me only a foot away from my right hand. In front of me I saw a pair of feet, well, two pairs of feet. Both in plain black flat shoes, one set of legs encased in yellow-green stockings the other in black leggings. Fortunately there were no other people around.

Getting up onto my knees made me think better of that.

Flemeth and Morrigan stood watching me, the younger witch with her arms crossed over her spectacularly buoyant breasts for someone not wearing a push up bra. Morrigan wore a look that lacked an enthusiasm, regarding me with mild overtones of irritation. Flemeth on the other hand watched me with hooded eyes and an unreadable expression.

“Welcome traveler,” Flemeth said sounding very much like the crazy little old lady she appeared to be. I thought about the Dragon Age 2 costume she wore, the big dragon horns she would grow in the transition between games. “Though it seems you’re a bit stuck in the between.”

“Ya think,” I growled and pushed up from the grass and dirt. “What the hell is going on? Why am I flip-flopping back and forth? What am I doing here? This world isn’t real! It’s not-”

Flemeth held up one wrinkled hand that reminded me very much of my grandmother’s with purple and blue veins sticking out of paper thin skin. So very different from the well intact, seeming ageless Flemeth of DA2. “What is real and what is not, are not subjects up for debate child, only what is happening in the present. You have,” her gaze went over my form and I suddenly felt the need to brush off the dirt and grass on my clothes to look more presentable, “somehow managed to fall through the cracks in the barrier between our worlds.”

I picked off pieces of grass from my hoodie, “Or I’m having extremely vivid hallucinations brought on by the lack of oxygenated blood flowing to my cerebrum.” Considering I’d had a seizure not brought on by epilepsy, and I couldn’t remember actually going to class, it was entirely possible I was dying. Instead of my life flashing before my eyes my brain may have begun to use this fantasy world as a coping mechanism so that I could escape the pain. Maybe it wasn’t a heart attack. Maybe I’d had a stroke.

“A valid argument,” Flemeth conceded graciously.

Which made me suspicious. 

Somewhere, elsewhere in the wilds the bay of a darkspawn horn went up. I looked up at the sky, seeing the blood-orange of sunset. In my chest my heart skipped a beat. The massacre at Ostagar would happen in a handful of hours, and there was nothing, absolutely not a single god damn thing I could do to save all those people. If you’d like the definition of feeling absolutely helpless, that was it.

“There is nothing you can do,” Flemeth told me with solemn finality. She turned her head, “Morrigan, supper for three. I must speak with the Traveler.”

Every time she said ‘traveler’ like that I had flashes of the Stay Puffed Mashmellow Man moving past buildings in Manhattan. Except Gozer the Gozerian hadn’t invoked me from someone’s head. Hey, you are never too old to watch (and appreciate) the Ghostbusters, got it?

“Yes mother,” Morrigan said almost begrudgingly. I wondered, as she cast me one last curious glance if she knew half as much about me as I did about her. Though I supposed Flemeth knew a great deal more than either of us girls combined. 

Once the door was closed I leaned down for my long sword. “So, Flemeth,” I said, “care to tell me how you’re the Face of Boe in this, or am I gonna have to hazard a guess?”

“You would not understand even if I were to explain it to you as simply as I can.” The elderly witch assured me, “though I will try if you care to use our time together like that.”

“And how else would we spend it?”

She stepped toward me and for half a second I wanted to give ground. I didn’t though. Standing before me, she motioned to the blade in my hand, “In your world you are a child of privilege, are you not?”

Reluctantly, I nodded. My parents own their Manhattan brownstone. We have money. I hated admitting that to anyone. I never wanted to trade on my parents’ names or their money. Hell, I was paying for most of college with scholarships. I purposely chose a SUNY school instead of going to Brown like my father wanted. I’m a bit of a black sheep in my family, while my sister and brother are the literal examples of golden children.

“What of it,” I asked.

Flemeth’s dark eyes narrowed on me, “You have never had to kill.”

Night fell, Morrigan cooked dinner and I ate with her while Flemeth went off to rescue the wardens. The food, I believe it was chicken – at least I hoped it was chicken – with lemon grass and spinach, sat sourly in my stomach while we waited. There were no sounds of battle or ominous howls of darkspawn. No shouts of men in the night or screams shattering the quiet peace. Still I felt uneasy sitting there nibbling on food while hundreds of men and women were dying. Or worse. Time stretched out from minutes into hours.

Morrigan asked a few questions about where I came from, what my world was like. It interested her that I was not a Thedas native. Her curiosity seemed to focus in more on the way I had been pulled back and forth between worlds. When I appeared here, before her and her mother, there had been a soft crack in the air like muffled lightening. At least that is what she told me. Then I fell through the air onto the ground.

Flemeth returned just as I finished explaining waking up in the classroom at school.

Both Aedan and Alistair were unconscious, though Aedan more than likely from blood loss. Two arrows punctured his chest, one in his left shoulder and one poking through the flesh of his abdomen. Alistair on the other hand had on the Thane helmet, though one of the horns had broken off and part of it looked dented. A thin trail of blood trickled down his cheek from somewhere under the dent.

Fearing cranial pressure or worse damage to his skull itself, I pulled the helm off of him while Flemeth set to work healing Aedan.

That night was the first of a series of long nights in Ferelden.

I slept on the floor near the fireplace. The heat comforted me even though I slept fitfully. I’ve slept on the ground before having gone camping often enough with Cody. I missed him a little more here because this would have been something he would have loved. He would have had the time of his life. He might have even tried to fight in the battle at Ostagar. Cody was crazy like that. I loved him for it.

The hut did actually have another room as I found out when Morrigan opened a trap door and went down into it to sleep. I wanted to make a cheesy vampire joke, having read far too many Sookie Stackhouse and Anita Blake novels over the years. Refraining took a lot more self control than I thought it would.

I’m a nerd. I thought I made that abundantly clear.

I slept fitfully, waking periodically and drifting back to sleep. Every time I opened my eyes I expected to wake up on the floor of the history classroom or in the health center or an emergency room with a worried looking nurse hovering over me. I dreamed of Emma trying to help me up off the floor only to lose my balance and suddenly my eyes popped open in the new reality. A child-like desire to be at home wrapped up in my grandmother’s arms, smelling the sweetness of her perfume and skin lotion overwhelmed me.

I woke up before dawn, finding Alistair already awake. He stood at the window, his back to me as he watched the predawn light turn the sky from dark hazy black to powder blue. He must have noticed the change in my breathing because he turned a little to look at me. A faint blush graced his cheeks and ears half a moment later, green-gold eyes averting to the spot just to the right and over my head.

Bewildered by his reaction I looked down at myself and realized that sometime in the night the Henley I wore had ridden up with the t-shirt and tank top to expose some of my stomach. Not a monumentally embarrassing sight, but then he was a Templar and a virgin to boot. I grabbed my sweatshirt off the floor and pulled it on to save his innocent eyes.

“How’s your head?” I asked once the hoodie settled down around my hips.

His brow drew together, “What?”

I tapped my forehead where I found his wound the night before, “You sustained a mild head trauma last night. No nausea or persistent pressure in your ears? Confusion, blurry vision…” he stared at me like I had two heads. “Sorry, most of the people in my family are doctors.” 

Still staring.

With a sad smile I pushed up off the floor, “Trust me if you were from where I’m from you would have understood everything I said.”

“Do people from your world also disappear into thin air like you?” He asked suspiciously.

I almost wanted to laugh. I didn’t though. Shaking my head, “Nope. I’m uniquely singular in that respect. David Copperfield has to use mirrors.” Again with the staring. My pop culture know-how would be completely wasted in this place. Sighing, “No, I shouldn’t even be disappearing like that. It’s not humanly possible.”

That, of all things, seemed to placate him.

“Are you a mage,” he asked, “like Morrigan and her mother?”

I shook my head, “Not a magic bone in my body, I swear.” Just an every day post adolescent who happened to come unstuck between two very different realities. That sounded like the premise for a bad yet somehow miraculously popular sitcom. Maybe they could air it after  **Two and a Half Men** . 

Truthfully the video game didn’t do him justice when it came to his sadness over the loss of Duncan and the other Grey Wardens. The Alistair I met yesterday looked ten years younger than the man that stood before me. The crow’s feet appeared over night in the corners of his eyes and the deep creases in his forehead brought out an almost irrepressible urge to grab him and hug him. I wanted to lie to him and tell him it would be okay eventually.

It’s my nature I suppose, along with going to mush over fuzzy creatures and falling in love with men that rip my heart out and stomp on it. He just seemed so heartbreakingly  _ lonely _ . Gingerly I put a hand on his upper arm and said, “Live like they would have wanted you to, it is the best way to honor their memory.” My uncle, the other blackened sheep in my family, told me that after Cody’s funeral. I’ll never forget it as long as I live. 

“Have you,” he said softly, sadly, “ever lost anyone?”

“Someone I considered my brother,” I touched Cody’s totem which hung from the chain around my neck. The wood felt warm under my fingertips. 

Outside birds sang and the sun came up fully. Flemeth returned from wherever she’d gone. I wondered if she slept at all or if she even needed sleep. Having played DA2 I knew better than to think she could be killed. After out talk yesterday, I felt as if I might be in some twisted fairy tale on crack. Where Flemeth played the part of the elderly know it all fairy godmother. Minus the fairy bit.

Being told your life is about to change from college student and daughter, to run, fight or die isn’t something anyone wants to hear. Not from the mouth a person you previously believed to be a non-sentient video game personality. Not when you are stuck somewhere you thought did not, could not exist.

I went outside with while Alistair changed back into his armor.

If the game timing was anything to go by Aedan would be awake soon. Then the four of us, Morrigan included, would head off to Lothering. Hopefully we would pick up Leliana and Sten, save Bohdan and Sandal from darkspawn and…I sighed. I have played this game so many times with so many different variations. I went around the house to the creek, no doubt a run off from the stream I’d followed through the wilds yesterday, and stripped off my hoodie again. The Henley and the grey t-shirt went with it.

Unlike other people in college, I’m not one for going without showers for a couple of days. The water stuck a little under my arms from the remainder of my deodorant. In a day or so I’d have to get used to my own body odor and the feeling of being ripe and grimey. Gross. I rinsed my mouth and rubbed my skin with cold water where I could get at it. Bending my head over the water I emptied the last of my water bottle into my hair and used my fingers to comb through the tangles. My kingdom for a bar of soap and some leave in conditioner.

I couldn’t have been gone more than twenty minutes at most, but Aedan and Alistair and Flemeth were already deep into the raising an army dialogue. From a purely academic point of view, I found their interactions fascinating. They followed the script almost to a T. I stood off to the side, near the door to the cabin while running my fingers through the last hold outs of knots in my hair. 

Morrigan came into the mix and I almost started laughing. She did such a good impression of being surprised by Flemeth unceremoniously kicking her out, I half believed it. If I didn’t already know her end game, I would have believed it too. It felt so strange hearing Claudia Black’s voice come out of Morrigan’s mouth. It really did. I kept thinking of her in FarScape, as Aeyran Suun. Stargate and Vala Mal Doran. Her pulling a dash, dive and die in Pitch Black.

Have you realized I am a nerd yet?

Flemeth addressed me right as I’d begun to braid my hair into a side plait. “What say you traveler?”

Fuck my fucking failure of an attention span. I tried for a serious expression, but I think all I managed to do was pull off being tired. Rolling my shoulders, my fingers tying off the tail end of the braid, “What are my options? I either go with the wardens and Morrigan or I head north to Kirkwall and get shut out at the gates. Kirkwall will be turning away anyone without the coin to get through the gates. I’m better off here.”

“You don’t know that Kirkwall will turn away refugees,” Aedan told me.

During our original conversation, Flemeth told me to keep as much to myself as possible. There were powers at work here even she could not explain. However, as with most post adolescents, I’m not one for following rules or recommendations unless I want to. And I honestly did not want to at the moment. I laughed under my breath, “Yes I do. Just like I know your mabari will find us on the way to Lothering and that bandits will hassle us for money when we arrive.” Arms crossed over my chest, “So are we gonna go or what?”

Hiking through the Kokari Wilds took most of the morning; the trees only fell away from us near noon. My limbs felt heavy with exhaustion by the time Aedan called for a rest stop. I really wanted a gigantic bowl of penne-a-la-vodka with grilled chicken and roasted red peppers. Or fettuccini alfredo with broccoli spears and jumbo lemon-garlic shrimp. Linguini and kale smothered in clam sauce. Mushroom and cheese stuffed ravioli, Italian style meatballs in tomato sauce covered with parmesan…

My stomach growled loudly. The last meal I’d eaten was one of my granola bars. I dropped on the ground unceremoniously, my bottom smarting a bit from impact. Not that I cared. I just needed to get off my feet. I could only imagine how I would have felt if I chose to wear flats or the kitten heels Emma gave me for Christmas for today. 

Yesterday. 

No, today.

No, yesterday. Ostagar was last night. I came back yesterday.

Except in my world only minutes passed between me being here and me being there. I felt like I was in some whacked out Chronicles of Narnia alternate reality. In a moment of decisiveness, I shucked my jacket, sweatshirt and long sleeved tee. The cold damp of Ferelden smacked my skin, bringing about gooseflesh that spread like wildfire. Next I went for my messenger bag, Emma called it my Mary Poppin’s bag, and pulled out my drawing supplies.

Shoving up the left arm of my short sleeved tee, I marked my upper shoulder with two short purple strikes. One for each day spent in Thedas. I needed to keep track of time here. On the other shoulder I used a blue marker. One strike for home, for my world. I rubbed my thumb over the blue one once it was dry, murmuring, “I lost some time once. It’s always in the last place you look for it.”

Neil Gaiman, he’s on the top ten of my favorite authors list.

My hand brushed my Kindle when I went to put the markers back. I thought about turning it on, but realized I would just be wasting the battery. That did not, of course, make the desire to hook myself up to the great big world I called home any less potent. My kingdom for an internet connection. For a charger. For  _ electricity. _ For the basic creature comforts people took for granted in my world every day. And, as I ran my tongue over my teeth in a plainly irritated gesture, for my fucking tooth brush!

Instead I pulled out my iPod, pink-purple electronic beauty of the 21 st century, put the dull, grey-white headphones into my ears and turned it on. I didn’t care what I listened to as long as I could listen to something. Anything that wasn’t from this hellish reality I found myself living in. Anna Kendrick singing Cups, Pitch Perfect soundtrack. I could have laughed, and I did, a low soft sad sound that ended in a sob.

My music collection in a word: Eclectic.

Arms wrapped around my legs I settled my forehead on my knees as the song turned into Radiohead’s Creep. I tried to lose myself in the lyrics for a little while. Pretend even for just the handful of minutes I sat there that as soon as I opened my eyes I would be sitting the quad again. I’d be waiting for class while other people from my time, my reality passed by on their way to their classes. Their daily routines already set into motion. Would Emma realize something was up when I didn’t come back to the dorm last night? Or when I didn’t show up for breakfast? 

Then again I could be in a coma. Or worse.

A shudder went down my spine.

Radiohead faded into David Guetta’s Titanium while I mulled over the concept of me actually being dead, lying on a slab in a morgue. My mother and father would have to drag themselves away from one neurosurgery or another and travel upstate to identify my body. As I imagined what I looked like lying out pale, and cold on a metal slab under antiseptic white lights with a Y incision cutting through my chest, I realized one extremely important thing. 

I am a fucking idiot.

Maybe I’m not naturally one to lie down and take what the world throws my way. Maybe it was the song and the message behind the song. Could have been a combination of the two. Either way, I had two choices. I could deal with it and be a hero in the making or I could chump out and slink off to Gwaren and then Kirkwall with my tail between my legs. Both of them held the possibility of me getting killed in the process, but only one could take me on the adventure of a lifetime.

When I saw the plain looking fencing from a distance I realized that I probably wouldn’t get to disappear back into my world once the fighting started. Aedan’s mabari would appear any moment from around the bend ahead, and he would be followed by a small troupe of darkspawn. I could feel the tingle of adrenaline beginning to course through my veins in preparation for the fight. Slowing my steps, I made certain my messenger bag was clipped closed and maneuvered it behind me. The last thing I wanted was to get tangled up and lose my head. Or my life.

Alistair bumped into me from behind. Clearly, he was still staring at the ground and his feet while he contemplated the deaths of Duncan and the rest of the Grey Wardens. His armor was, in a delicate word, painful to be hit with. He only stumbled a little, me on the other hand…I weighed less, was comprised of quite a bit more body fat and wore no armor. 

“I’m sorry,” Alistair said quickly, “I wasn’t…I mean I didn’t…” He looked at me apologetically, a crease between his eyebrows from deep, morose thoughts.

I held my elbow and the back of my arm right lamenting the size of the bruise I would be sporting tomorrow, hissing through my teeth. The word  _ ouch  _ does not even begin to cover it. Biting back the swear words on my tongue, “No,” my voice came out a little high, “my bad, really.” It was, technically. If I hadn’t slowed down, he would never have hit me. I reached out and poked his splint-mail encased torso with a finger from the opposite hand, “You’re really solid under there, huh?”

He probably would have answered. One of his hands came up to his chest where I’d poked him. I say probably because he never got to say anything. 

Aedan’s mabari came around the bend at breakneck speed, ears perked, barking his head off in a Happy joy I found you! kind of way. Unlike in the game, the dog did not stop. He barreled forward into Aedan, who crouched to scratch behind ears, rub a puppy belly and tell the pony sized dog what a good dog he was.

I owned a Pit-Bull once. Back when my mom and dad weren’t douchebags obsessed with money, work and making a name for themselves in the medical community. Her name was Sasha, she slept in my room most of the time. Sasha was nowhere near as big as this guy, or as powerful looking. In real life a mabari looked like a cousin of the Pit-Bull, with the build of a Newfoundland, and the head of Saint Bernard minus all the fluffy fur. We’re talking a big dog. Big. Who tackled his owner down and bathed every exposed part of Aedan’s skin in sloppy, happy, doggie kisses.

For a minute there I half believed that we would get by without the darkspawn showing up. Without a fight. Of course, as Murphy’s Law states, whatever can go wrong will. The moment I believed we might be lucky enough to skate by on the magical juice Flemeth pawned off on Morrigan, was the exact moment the darkspawn chose to join in and ruin the reunion of dog and master.

Beside me Alistair pulled on the Thane helm, he looked much like an awkward derpy Viking. Morrigan, several feet ahead, was already starting up on some sort of spell. Aedan and mabari disengaged from one another fairly quickly. Aedan pulled his broadsword and the mabari loosed a violent, dangerous growl that fell somewhere between mother bear protecting cub and lioness protecting cub. I on the other hand, with my hands on my long sword – still in its sheath – realized I was completely out of my element for the umpteenth time since appearing here in Thedas. Hopelessly, totally and unquestioningly an overwhelmed hindrance to the battle ready warriors and mage.

I don’t know if it was gallantry or simply because Alistair at heart was a gentleman, but he pulled me aside, set me behind him and asked me to please stay out of the fray. Then he, as Aedan and the mabari did, charged into battle.

The fight didn’t last long, not with Morrigan there casting her frost spell on anything getting away from the boys and the dog. I half expected her to shift into spider form and start ripping darkspawn to shreds for the sheer fun of it. Her laughter in the middle of battle disturbed me more than the blood or the severed body parts.

“There were nine of them,” Aedan declared as he counted the bodies staining the ground with their reddish-black blood. He kicked aside a severed arm with the toe of his boot, “there are only eight here.”

He just had to say that, didn’t he?

A cold shiver streaked its way down my spine. Fight or flight kicked in and I moved fast. Faster, I think, than I’ve ever moved before though it felt almost like slow motion to me. Half a second later the clicks sounded. I swung my long sword around as the genlock appeared. My heart pounded in my chest like wild horses running away. It stabbed forward at the same time I swiped the blade down with as much force as I could gather. The sword I held was a lot longer than the genlock’s blades, and even though I wasn’t too much taller, my arms were fairly longer. The blade lodged sideways in the genlock’s skull.

I screamed like a banshee and dropped the hilt, allowing myself the obligatory freak out. The creature’s eyes rolled up into its head and it died with a very vocal death rattle, and from the smell it did as mortals usually did and shit itself as its body died. I didn’t realize I was backing away from the creature’s body until Aedan stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him, blinking and suddenly the terror filled me and I broke down into tears.

“You’ve never killed anything before,” Aedan said, his voice soft and patient as he spoke, “have you?”

I shook my head, swiping at my eyes with the sleeves of my Air Force hoodie. 

The corners of his mouth turned up a little, his eyes crinkling, “Good first try.”

I wanted to laugh, and I think I did though it came out a miserable sobbing sound. “I’m sorry,” I managed to get out, my voice thick and throat sore, “I’m not normally like this. I don’t cry at the drop of a hat. I don’t, but…” I looked over at the body on the ground. The monster I killed. Telling myself it was a monster, something that would have happily killed me or worse, dragged me away to become a broodmother. I shuddered violently at the thought. 

The mabari, who I could not recall the name of padded up to me, his fur spattered here and there with darkspawn blood. He put his nose under my hand and whined at me plaintively. The kind of whine a dog gives when they’re trying to figure out how to fix whatever is wrong and how they can fix it. Maybe it’s because I’m a dog person, or maybe because I’m just an animal lover at heart, I don’t know. I got down on my knees, pressed my forehead to his and gave him a good scratch behind his ears.

“Good puppy,” I kissed the mabari’s nose, “very good puppy.”

“You know,” Aedan said as he crouched down beside me, “I’ve never seen Jax do that for anyone but me on a bad day. And I have never,” his gloved hand touched mine as I scratched the dog’s neck, “ _ never _ seen anyone brave enough to give him a kiss.”

“You’re humoring me,” I murmured.

Morrigan approached, looking peeved. Her long pale fingers tapped on her arm in an annoyed gesture, “Are we to coddle you all day Traveler or shall we continue?”

The way she looked at me then, her nose and chin raised just a little, dark eyes flinty hard, I realized we would probably never get along. She had her own agenda, her own plans to carry out. Our paths, though intertwining, diverged at critical points. I think she realized that too when I refused to answer her questions last night. 

Was Ostagar only last night? 

I shot her a glare, “Morrigan, I know you’re not used to interacting with people, but really, not a good time to be bitchy.” Jax got a couple of good behind the ear scratches out of me and another kiss on the nose. “Good puppy.” I touched Aedan’s hand, avoiding the sticky splotches of darkspawn blood that defied logic and caught the sunlight. “Thank you. I mean it.”

He smiled at me all blue eyes and warmth. Honestly I blame my reaction on me coming off of an emotional roller coaster, but my heart just gave up. She folded up the broken hearted flag she’d been flying since he-who-shall-not-be-named broke up with us, and lit a torch. A torch with the name Aedan hand stamped into it.


	3. Part One, Chapter Three

Chapter 3:

Charred rabbits do not taste like chicken but I held my nose and swallowed what I could despite the gamey texture. We ate dinner off of stripped wooden branches and sat on the ground with the cold seeping in. No tents, no bedrolls. We would have them once we hit Lothering. Before dinner, before we sat on the cold hard ground and ate food that made my stomach not so happy in a nauseating kind of way, Morrigan went around and spread something from a small pouch on the nearby trees. I suppose that was what her mother gave her to throw the scent off of Alistair and Aedan.

We were half a day from Lothering according to Morrigan. We would be there by noon tomorrow provided there were no more darkspawn attacks.

Feeling useless I chipped at my red-pink nail polish in the low glow from the fire light. Bad habit. Better than biting my nails though. I had the feeling I might need them to scratch or dig soon enough. The cold nipped at my legs and hands leaving me feeling as if it might be impossible to sleep even though exhaustion pulled at every muscle.

“Elyria,” Adean called.

“Hmm?” I blinked at him. The fire cast dark, ominous shadows on his face. He almost looked dangerous like that. I fought off a shudder, blaming it on the cold. 

“Will you be able to take a watch shift?”

I could practically feel his awareness of my lacking skills. If I couldn’t prove myself useful I would be dropped at Lothering. The thought didn’t scare me as much as it should have. I knew something he didn’t. I could find the Hawke family; they would no doubt be right behind us, maybe by a day. Bethany wasn’t in the fight, not like Carver and Hawke. I might even be able to find Aveline before anything happened to Wesley.

“Sure,” I told him, hoping my voice didn’t sound as worn as I felt. “Three hours or four?” Truthfully I didn’t think I would make it through a four hour shift. The very idea of a three hour shift left me wanting to weep. Tomorrow would be a lot of walking, again, this time with very little sleep.

My reply must have been the right answer, his face and gaze softened. “Two hours. You’ll go last. I’ll wake you.”

Mercy me. Thank heavens. The energy it took to give him half a smile seemed to be like the last of my reserves. I put my bag under my head, ignoring the childish desire to pull out little Herbert and cuddle him. Jax must have been psychic as well as brilliant because he abandoned Aedan’s side to flop down beside me, warm body between me and the cold night. I almost laughed. Reaching out I rubbed behind his ears. That earned me a quick lick to the nose.

“Good puppy,” I murmured to him sleepily. I don’t remember closing my eyes but I must have closed them because I found myself dreaming of my dorm back at school. Standing outside it with Emma, I knew I was asleep because the dream was black and white. Emma and I were pairing up our schedules for the next semester, trying to figure out what time would be best for us to catch lunch and dinner together. I wondered about the freshman she was dating, the one who always struck me as a little too immature for someone like Emma.

Our schedules weren’t matching up. She had classes when I had free time. I had classes when she had free time. Frustrated I threw my schedule on the ground, letting it blow away in the crisp winter winds. I could always go print out another one if I had to, but I didn’t think I would have to. Not anymore.

“You’re going to be okay,” her dream self said to me.

The wind rustled the branches in the tall, tall pine trees across the courtyard from us. I dragged one hand through my hair, “But we don’t have lunch together anymore. Or time for dinner.”

Emma’s gaze was sympathetic, I think she wanted to hug me but she didn’t. “You’ve got other people to hang out with now.”

Shaking my head, “Ems, I don’t want to hang out with other people. I want to be at home. I want to hang out with you and Ker and Lee.” Kerry with her copper red hair, big brown eyes and all of those freckles who could swindle anyone at cards because everyone underestimated her ability to be sly and cunning. Brandon Lee, who remained convinced his parents wanted him to be a kung fu master so they named him something awesome.

Twigs and branches snapped. Something shuffled on the cement. I looked around the courtyard between the two dorms and saw nothing. Just wind and trees and the bushes planted in the center of the courtyard. The cold weather flowers in the beds swayed in slow motion. Finally I put my finger on what felt wrong. We were alone. In a courtyard between two dorms, we were alone as we stood there. Never, ever in the four years Emma and I had been living on campus had the courtyard ever been deserted as it was. I spun around, trying to see someone, anyone.

There was more shuffling on the cement with no one to cause it. The skin between my shoulder blades itched something awful. I went under my shirt to scratch it and came away with bloodied fingers. In the black and white of the dream my blood shown with stark contrast, so very bright and vibrant in the sunlight.

I breathed in to scream and couldn’t. My heart began to pound.

Aedan woke me in the dying of the firelight. He looked a little tired, more concerned than anything. “You were having a nightmare.”

I blinked at him in the shadows of the twilight, my voice low and soft. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, “Don’t be. It’s your turn on watch.”

I nodded, sitting up and finding myself just as cold as I was when sleep took me. Jax, the dog, snuffled in his sleep, his paws moving as he trotted after something in his dreams. I hoped he was dreaming something good. I grabbed the long sword, set my back up against a tree and turned my face to what I assumed was east. The sun would dawn soon enough and we’d be on our way again. I hoped breakfast would not be rabbit or squirrel. Or bird. I’d be happy to chew on something that someone hadn’t had to kill and strip first.

“Where did you go?” Aedan asked me as he came to stand beside me. He looked out into the distance rather than at me. Maybe he thought I would need help being on watch.

“When?” I asked, though I’m sure I could guess.

“You disappeared in the middle of a fight. I thought…” he shook his head. “You are not from Thedas, Flemeth told me as much. She did not say where you came from, only that you are here to help us fight the blight.”

Laughing bitterly under my breath, “Flemeth doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” That almost felt like blasphemy. “No, I am not from Thedas, but I am not here to fight the blight. I fell through a crack between here and my home and from what I can see there is nothing I can do about it. When I disappeared, I showed up at home, a couple hundred feet from where I’d been before I left. I don’t know why I am here, and I am not sure if I can ever get home.”

“You did once already, I’m sure you will again.”

I glared at the darkness ahead of me rather than at him, “I was sick while I was there. I felt like my whole body was being squeezed in a vice and my brain was going to explode from pressure.”

Hesitantly, he put a hand on my shoulder. No armored gloves, just his hand with long fingers and calluses a Teryn’s son should never have had. “If I can, if it doesn’t interfere with fighting the blight and calling in aide, we can try to find you a way back.” The sincerity in his voice brought tears to my eyes.

“Thank you.” I tried to smile at him, “Better get some sleep. You’ll be tired enough as is.”

One of his shoulders rose and fell nonchalantly, “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gone hours without sleep.”

“I’ll be alright,” I said, “go sleep a little. We’re going to have to face Alistair’s cooking again when he wakes up.”

Aedan gave a groan of pain, head bowing in horror. “Why, why did you have to remind me of that Elyria?”

I wanted to smile, but I just couldn’t do it. Instead shook my head, “Get some sleep Warden.”

“Aedan,” he corrected, his lips casting a shadow of a smile at me, “just call me Aedan. I’m not much of a warden. Alistair has more right to the title than I do.”

My cheeks flamed in the dark, “I don’t know if that would be-”

He stepped a little closer to me, towering over me, watching me with those blue, blue eyes of his. “Just call me by my name Elyria.”

Ah Christ, damn it. My knuckles went white as they gripped the hilt of my blade. My cheeks flamed with heat in the darkness. “Okay, Aedan.”

He flashed me an almost playful smile as he backed away, “Good night for now Elyria.”

In my chest my heart did jumping back flips, “Good night.”

Oh. My. Fluffy. Lord.

“Bandits,” I told Aedan as we approached Lothering. The bald one, the one with the slow speech who – at least in game – was smart enough to realize the Warden and company were dangerous, was visible between the archways. I looked up at Aedan, I had to. He was at least six foot one or two, I’m five three maybe five four with sneakers. “So, does that mean you’re going to pay me the gold you promised or what?”

He flipped a coin at me, which I caught between two hands. “You are eventually going to tell me how you know these things, aren’t you Elyria?”

God, the way he said my name. My heart gave a quick flutter in my chest. I felt my cheeks tinge with color and bowed my head a little to hide behind my hair lest my English/Norwegian heritage betray my budding crush. “I don’t know,” I told him, “in all honestly Warden-”

“Aedan,” he corrected again.

The blush spread to my neck. “Right. Sorry. Aedan,” I fought not to chew on my lower lip, another bad habit of mine. “I don’t know if I should.”

“And why should you refrain?” Morrigan asked from behind us, her tone only slightly insulted with an undercurrent of curiosity. “Is that not what you were sent to do?”

I laughed bitterly, “Sent? I wouldn’t say I was sent here. I don’t even know how I got here. One minute I was sitting waiting to head to class and the next I was standing in the Wilds without cell service.” I cast a glance back at her, “Unless some higher entity decided to play on my emotional and mental stability, I wouldn’t say I was sent here by anyone, would you?”

As Aedan, Morrigan and Alistair walked toward the bandits, I realized this was really it. This is where the story would start. We would beat the tar out of these idiots – or pay the toll – and move on through to Lothering. Hunting down Hawke while we were here, and saving the life of either Carver or Bethany. My conscience told me to watch my hubris, watch how I interacted with the world, with the people. It was just that I hated knowing one of the two would die if I didn’t say anything. All I had to do was open my mouth and ask the refugees if they knew the Hawke family.

All I had to do was  _ try _ .

“Wake up gentlemen, more travelers to attend to.” In real life the bandit leader looked a lot more scraggly than he had on the computer screen. His five o’clock shadow was more of a scruffy almost beard. His eyebrows could have done with a good grooming and his armor looked bedraggled and patched at best.

“Highway men,” Alistair said exactly when I expected him to, “preying on those fleeing the darkspawn I suppose.”

“They are fools to get in our way,” Morrigan said right on cue, her nose wrinkling in irritation. “I say teach them a lesson.”

Beside me Jax gave an angry growl, his hindquarters squaring off in preparation for a fight. Morrigan’s hands were already on her staff, the faint bluish glow of her magic formed around her fingers. I went for my sword. I wouldn’t fight unless I had to, Aedan’s orders. I lacked the armor I needed to defend myself properly. We would be getting said armor once we were in Lothering. I didn’t want to tell him the merchant wasn’t going to be accommodating or pleasant. He would learn soon enough.

Aedan took some initiative with a preemptive strike. He pressed a dagger he pulled from I don’t know where against the bandit leader’s corroded artery. “It would be best you and your friends left before we decide you’ve been causing too much trouble around here.”

The swagger went out of the scraggly leader, his eyes bugging out with a sharp blade stuck against his throat. “Alright, we surrender! We-we-we’re,” he even stuttered in real life! “Just trying to get by, before the darkspawn get us all!”

“Oh please,” I snapped, “you’re ripping off people in need. I’d insult you but I can’t fathom an insult your pea-brain could comprehend.”

“Yes,” the bandit stuck with the script, “I’m a bad, bad person.”

Aedan’s eyes narrowed dangerously, “Start running. Do not even think about coming back here.”

My girly bits went up in take-me-now flames. Blushing to the roots of my hair, I looked down to keep from anyone noticing. Lest Morrigan decide she wanted to antagonize me as much as she did Alistair. I was already on her bad side for being here and unwilling to share information. My eyes caught a faint smear of red on the ground. Then a few drops near by. Blood. Of their own volition my eyes followed the trail to the side of the bridge. A few fingers, encased in tarnished plate mail stuck out from under piled garbage. Reaching over I tapped Alistair, nodding toward the wall. He saw it too.

We pulled poor Sir Heinrich out from under the pile. He clutched the paper and his locket in death. Aedan took both, reading the note.

“We’re going to have to stop at the chantry,” Aedan informed us.

Our first side quest. The absurdity of it made me cover my mouth to kill a laugh. This is a game made of main quests and side quests. At least I hadn’t been pulled into Skyrim. Or worse, Oblivion. I’d have died already. A wolf would have taken me out, or a skeever. The mental image of being ripped to pieces, alive, by an oversized rodent was not pleasant.

“Is that wise?” Morrigan asked with the very slightest of inflections in her voice.

“You don’t have to come in with us,” I added as we moved past the zigzagging barricade to the ramp that would lead us down into Lothering. The dialogue, Alistair’s dialogue and Morrigan’s snark began the minute Aedan’s feet touched the ramp. Further proof that I was along for the ride, not a central part of the story like the rest of the companions we would sooner or later pick up.

While they talked – and at least in the case of Morrigan and Alistair snarked – amongst themselves I looked out upon the village, more like town, of Lothering. In this case the game had not done it justice. There were people  _ everywhere _ . The tents set up almost neatly in the semi-circle near the ramp in game, was actually a small tent city four by four rows. Women, men, children, and pets moved among the tents. Some coughed, some begged for food. The gold Aedan gave me, the sovereign felt heavy in my pocket. I could break that into silver and give as many people as possible a way out. They needed to get to Gwaren to catch the boat to Kirkwall. Or they could head up north toward Highever and Amaranthine where the blight would hit last.

Past that there were homes in the distance and then more open land with forest and shrubbery. Finding the Hawke family would be…difficult. Hopefully I could find them. Hopefully I would find them. I just needed to talk to Hawke’s mother or Bethany for five minutes and-

“And you Traveler,” Morrigan called me back to their conversation. “Mother told me that you would provide insight into the best course of action.”

Refraining from turning around, “Funny that, Morrigan. She told me to keep what I know to myself.” I tapped my fingers on the stone railing, “but if you’re asking me what I think we should do regarding the treaties, the Circle should be first.”

“The Dalish are closer,” Aedan said. He came near with a map of Ferelden, this one much less colorful than the one I was used to looking at on the computer screen. He held it against the railing folded in half to show me the distance. His fingers traced the outline from Lothering to the Brecillian forest and then the long road up Lake Calenhad to the Circle Tower. “Unless there is a reason you think we should go to the tower first?”

Silently I weighed the consequences. I could just out right give an order and see if it would be followed. I doubted it would go over that well though. Aedan had to look as if he was in charge, he was the central character after all. The Warden. 

After a moment or two of silent deliberation I flipped around to see everyone. “Morrigan’s healing skills are nowhere near her offensive capabilities. She could freeze a pond solid in midsummer, but stitching up an open wound might be a trial. We need a healer, and the tower would be the best place to acquire one. Unless, of course, you want to spend the little bit of gold we have on healing potions?”

Morrigan’s arms crossed over her buoyant bosom, her fingers curling around her arm. “Traveler, at last you make  _ some _ sense.”

I took it as a compliment, bowing my head a little. “Thank you.”

Aedan looked down at his map once again, then at Alistair, Morrigan and finally me. “Are you certain?”

Shrugging, “Only time will tell. You’re the one in charge here Aedan, I’m just following your lead.”

He closed up the map, “We’ll resupply here and then we will head north.” Blue eyes on me, “To the Circle.”

“Fair enough.” Alistair told us right on cue, “Let’s head into the village whenever you’re ready.”

I could practically see the save screen in my mind’s eye.

The smell of unwashed bodies was not as bad as it should have been thankfully. The open air and the continuous breeze coming from the open land nearby made certain of it. There was no pilfering of crates or barrels though Aedan did delve into the cracked open ones to fish out abandoned armor and a little money.

He held out leather gloves to me. “I hope they fit,” he told me, “I have twenty sovereigns to get us resupplied.” They looked somewhat worn but not too badly. 

I pulled them on feeling awkward and silly when I couldn’t adjust them. “I’ve never had to wear armor before,” I confessed and pulled them off again.

Playfully Aedan tugged at my hood. “I can see that Elyria.”

Blushing I dropped the gloves into my bag.

Behind us Alistair began to question Morrigan about her mother. She in turn told him she would rather talk about his mother.

“Like bickering children,” I muttered.

Aedan chuckled, leaning in to whisper, “It could be worse. They could be sleeping together.”

I clutched my chest in mock horror, “Aedan, blasphemy!” Morrigan and Alistair, together by choice? Gag. The very idea was wrong on so many different levels.

We moved with the people up past the templar warning everyone off. In real life, he did not sound like Fenris. In game, yes they’re the same voice actor, but this guy did not sound like him at all. His voice was deeper, his accent a lot more British sounding. At some point we must have bypassed the helpful farmer too. So much for getting information from either of those sources. I suppose it was more realistic, not stopping every person in sight to pump them for the local dirt. At least we forwent the griping about too many people and not enough beds.

“We should look for shelter,” Alistair said, his voice slightly higher to reach above the din of other people in the vicinity.

“Tavern,” Aedan called back, maneuvering us toward the bridge.

There stood the elven family, the ones who lost all they had to the bandits. Unlike in my games though, Aedan did not stop to talk to them. I don’t think he even noticed them. Typical for a higher born human, but it irked me. I stopped.

“Spare a few copper my lady?” The elven woman asked.

“All of our things were taken by the bandits when we entered Lothering,” the man told me sounding ashamed and brow beaten.

I shook my head, “I’m sorry. I don’t have much myself. But the bandits are gone; my friends drove them out of town.”

The woman’s eyes grew large, which for an elf was slight alarming. Their eyes are very large to begin with, set deep into their faces but not unpleasantly so. “Oh, thank you! Maybe our things will still be there.”

I thought about the sovereign in my pocket again. No. I needed it in case I did find Bethany or Leandra Hawke. A sovereign would mean Aveline may not have to sell Wesley’s shield in Gwaren. It was money to pay the guards at the gates. Money to help buy their way into Kirkwall instead of being indentured servants for a year.

Alistair stood waiting for me. “That was kind of you,” he said as I joined him.

“A little kindness goes a long way,” I replied. Aedan was a head of us, talking to the little lost boy by the bridge. Well he stopped for the kid at least.

“Traveler,” Morrigan began as we crossed the stone bridge that connected one side of Lothering to the other, “I have a wonder.”

Huh. I guess including me in the party meant I was subject to party banter. Interesting. “I bet you have many.” The force is strong with this one master. 

Insert the sound of Yoda agreeing here.

“Do you not think, perhaps, telling the wardens all you know may enable him to make informed decisions?”

Bi-otch. Right, okay then. “Funny Morrigan, I think I could say the same about  _ you _ .” I cast what I hoped came across as a significant glance as we headed toward the tavern. A vein in her temple ticked at the same time her jaw twitched. “I’ll show the warden mine if you show him yours.”

“I think not,” Morrigan replied indignant.

“Bless us in splashes precious,” I said, “she’s going to bite her tongue!”

Alistair barely covered an amused snort. 


	4. Part One, Chapter Four

Chapter 4:

After being attacked by the soldiers in the tavern – with Aedan shifting me safely to the back of the group before the fighting broke out - they finished the quest for Elder Miriam. Morrigan griped while she worked on the potions. Leliana made the humane traps for the woman standing near her home, we freed Sten and took care of the Chantry business we had while in there. Aedan picked up the quests from the Chanter’s board and told the merchant to lower his prices or else. Aedan took Sten, Morrigan and Alistair with him while they took care of the bandits everywhere quest. 

It took most of the day, but finally our little party had seven people. 

Aedan charged Leliana with getting me armor that would fit while I was to keep Jax with us at all times. Just in case someone, anyone, got it into their heads to do something about the companions to the Wardens. The merchant (whom Aedan gave the verbal smackdown) was much less irritated with us than he was with our fearless leader. He gave her a decent deal on two sets of basic leather armor that miraculously fit her perfectly and yet required  _ a lot _ of adjusting on me. One of the templars allowed her to bring me into the chantry and dress me in her former sleeping alcove behind a fold out privacy wall.

She giggled when I blushed. I never stripped down in front of anyone that wasn’t Emma, my former boyfriend or Cody. I kept my tank top on over my bra. It was a little cold while she adjusted everything for me, straps here, and leather laces there. The small heating braziers and the mass of people standing barely one hundred feet away did nothing to warm the chantry with its great vaulted ceilings. The leather armor fought the chill fair enough, but not well enough for my tastes. Ferelden was a lot cooler than Upstate New York in November.

“How do you stand this?” I asked her as she helped me take off the adjusted chest piece to pull on first my t-shirt and then the Henley.

“Stand what?” She asked me in return.

I spent a semester in northern New Hampshire in my freshman year. The bitter cold there that caused ice storms was almost exactly the weather in Ferelden. It nipped at your every exposed surface and tried to sneak its way past your clothes to chill you from the inside. I used to own thermal leggings when I lived there. What I wouldn’t have given to have them again.

“The cold here, it’s invasive.”

“It is warmer in Orlais,” Leliana told me while we pulled on my armor again, this time not having to adjust it as much to make it fit. “It took a month or two before I was accustomed to the cooler weather in Ferelden.”

A month? Or two? I’d been here a few days! I didn’t want to be here for two months, I didn’t want to be here for one! Desperation hit me again, harder this time than before. The desire to go home and be attached to everyone and everything via internet from the safety of my warmly heated dorm room and a phone overwhelmed me. Tears formed in the corners of my eyes. I would not cry. I would not let myself cry. Jax’s nose bumped the palm of my hand. He uttered a low whine, his red tongue flicking out to swipe at my fingers.

I rubbed his head, sniffling, “Good puppy.”

“He likes you very much,” Leliana said, gently she patted Jax’s head. 

My attempt at smiling failed miserably, “Dogs tend to like me. I dunno why.”

“Dogs, like most animals,” Leliana’s accent changed the words to make them sound far more exotic and interesting than they actually were, “can usually tell a good person from a bad person. You,” she told me with a gentle look, “you are a good person. He can tell.” 

We gathered up all of my clothes, the hoodie and the jeans I couldn’t wear anymore and my sneakers. The hoodie and jeans I would keep for sleeping. The sneakers though, I had to sell. I hated the idea but the boots fit me well enough that they didn’t slip or slide on my legs. I’d never had boots that fit me like they did. They felt like a glove lined with thick material to battle the cold and came up to my knees. The skirt of my armor and the leather leggings underneath went most of the way down my thighs so in the end only the tops of my knees to about four inches of thigh actually saw any cold air. Still, I shivered when we left the chantry.

Even though it would earn my strange looks, I decided to pull on my hoodie anyway. I felt warmer and better instantly. Of course, when I looked down I found I also looked wildly out of proportion. My bresticals enhanced by the leather of the chest piece were huge while the rest of me looked pear shaped. 

Comfort over function worked for me though. I held my jeans and sneakers under one arm while we walked the short distance back to the merchant.

While we’d been in the chantry the sun had begun to set. All of Lothering bathed in a reddish glow that reminded me much too much of blood when it hit the creamy off white walls of the surrounding buildings. I blinked against the mental image, telling myself that many, many of these people would get out before it was too late. That did not, however, stop that little voice in my head from reminding me a lot of these people would die trying to get away.

Leliana began negotiating with the merchant for my sneakers. She told him what I told her, they’re good for walking, running, comfortable and they had rubber soles. He had no more idea what rubber was than she did, but that didn’t dampen her negotiations.

Another young woman stood looking at the merchant’s wears.

I walked near her, looking over the herbs and potions to see if I could tell what from what. Elfroot turned out to be easily discernible from deathroot, it was a pale golden hue versus deathroot’s purple-black. Deep mushrooms were the only mushroom out. They were hard to miss. I think the pale blue rocks with tiny wisps of smoke coming off them were frostrock. Meaning the dark red clear bits that looked like shattered glass were actually fire crystals. The blue on blue curved pieces must have been spirit shards. Bottled royal blue liquid in different sized glass containers, red liquid ranging from pale red, almost pink to dark red, one that was oval and bright orange, several dark green bottles in varying sizes. Lyrium, health potions in different strengths, fire bomb and different venomous poisons. I was almost proud of myself for recognizing them all.

I reached out to touch a bottle of greenish looking ichor at the same time the other woman did. Our hands bumped.

“Sorry!” She and I said at the same time.

Oh my god. Bethany. I could have hugged her. I wanted to hug her. I didn’t. Without her regular ensemble and the staff, I hadn’t recognized her at all. Her hair was pinned up today in a messy sort of twist. She went back to perusing the wares while I tried to come up with a way to break the ice. Almost everything I came up with in my head sounded creepy-stalker like. Anything that didn’t sound creepy or stalker like made me sound like Yoda. The stuff that fell between the two left me feeling like Professor Trelawney. 

Ah screw it. There was always the direct approach.

I cleared my throat, squared my shoulders and said, “Bethany Hawke?”

Her head whipped toward me faster than I think I’d ever seen anyone move. Brown eyes narrowed at me, taking in my appearance. “Do I know you?” The suspicion was evident in her every syllable. “Are you one of Carver’s girlfriends?”

“Oh God no,” bleh, no thank you ma’am. Carver, the one time I played a mage, irked me so badly I thought about not bringing Anders with me just so the little shit could die in the deep roads. Thankfully I did bring Anders and he saved Carver. The little shit grew up when he became a warden and surprise, a good man. Either way, I still called Carver ‘the little shit’ whenever I referred to him in conversation about game play.

I tried to relax, but failed in my nervousness. My heart felt like it might jackrabbit its way out of my chest. “But…I…” damn it. “I…” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the gold sovereign I won from Aedan that morning. “Use this to get your family out of Lothering. Leave as soon as both of your siblings get home. Go to Gwaren for the ships up to Kirkwall.”

Her eyes were large and dark as I put the gold in her hand. She looked down at it dumbfounded for a moment, then back to me. “Who are you?”

“Elyria,” Leliana called to me, “the others are returning.”

“Be right there,” I called back.

“Wait,” Bethany said, “I don’t understand.” Her fist gripped the sovereign tightly, “how do you know about my brothers? What do you know?”

Brothers, okay so this wasn’t a Female Hawke play through. “I’m sorry, I can’t. Just go, okay? Be safe.” I jogged to catch up with Leliana and Jax. She handed me twenty five pieces of silver and a few coppers. “Wow, you’re good.”

Looking rather proud of herself, “I am, yes?”

I nodded, pocketing the money, “Very yes.”

That made her laugh. 

We rejoined the group as they were coming back into town. Everyone looked a little bit bloody, save Morrigan of course. Bethany was gone by the time we walked back to the Chanters board. The brother out side, the one who only spoke the chant of light, gave us his unceremonious chanted reply and sent us on our way. I wanted Chanter says what to him.

Aedan tugged gently on the hood of my sweatshirt, “You’re all wrapped up.”

I batted away his hand, “It is really cold here.”

His brow creased in thought, “You must be from somewhere very warm.”

“Not really. New York is just warmer than here. Not as damp either.” I never thought I would ever hear those words come out of my mouth. Ever. If someone had bet me I would say that last week I would have laughed my butt off at them.

“Ah,” he said. “We’ll set up camp as soon as we are out of town. I promise the fire and some hot food will make the cold a little more tolerable.”

Food. In that moment I realized something. I hadn’t eaten anything but breakfast today. I’d taken water from my bottle but other than that, nothing. My stomach rumbled as soon as I realized I hadn’t eaten. Good thing I’m not diabetic or I’d be shit out of luck. A handful of sour gummy kids went into my mouth once I fished them out of my bag.

“What are those?” Alistair asked me while we waited for Aedan and Leliana to haggle the merchant’s prices down.

I pulled out a couple more and gave them to him, “Suck on them, don’t chew, last thing you need is cavities.”

He looked at me skeptically. His face pinched up almost immediately after he put them in his mouth. “Sour,” he cried and then a moment later, “sweet?”

“Welcome to the wonderful world of gelatin and corn syrup.”

“You and your strange words,” he shook his head at me.

“You can swallow them now Al, they’re pretty much done once all the sweet and sour is gone.”

He did his brow furrowing. “I think they’re stuck in my teeth.”

Groaning, “I told you not to chew dumbass.” I handed him my water bottle, “Swish it around in your mouth a couple of times. Should loosen everything up.”

Unlike in my world where one person did not put their mouth on your drinks, Alistair did. His lips wrapped around the mouth of the bottle and he swallowed a couple of times. Oh dear god that should not have been sexy. It really shouldn’t have been because his armor still had specks of blood and he looked a bit sweaty, and tired. But it  _ was _ . Just his Adam’s apple bobbing… Holy crap.

Remember that episode where Castiel was human and he drank from that water bottle? Yeah.  **That times one ** ** _hundred_ ** **.**

I turned my head away. Crushing on Aedan was bad enough, I would  _ not _ crush on Alistair too. I took the water back hoping the flush on my skin wasn’t too much of a give away.  _ Put the hormones away woman, we do not have time for this.  _ My libido needed to sit down and stay the hell away. Preferably for as long as I had to be in Thedas because no, it just was not helping. The last thing I wanted was to get into any form of relationship – besides friendship – with a fictional video game personality! 

Especially not one I designed. Or one that was in line for the Ferelden throne.

Bad mojo, seriously.

There were no villagers lying in wait for us as we exited Lothering, they were all dead. Their bodies were being picked over by the Chasined who paid us no mind. Flies had already begun to circle, no doubt laying eggs for their larva. It wouldn’t matter how much they would begin to smell. In a couple of days this place would be overrun with darkspawn and those bodies would either be fodder or food. Lothering would be overrun.

The walk to the other side of the bridge actually took much longer than I thought it would. Twenty minutes. The village of Lothering was far more spread out in the third dimension than it was in the two dimension of a video game. Aedan asked me to walk with him again, though we didn’t say much to each other. He kept his eyes ahead, scanning the horizon for anything out of sorts.

As soon as we began to approach the bridge I put my hand on his arm, “There will be two dwarves under attack up here. A hurlock emissary with some thralls.” 

He looked down at me, “One day you are going to explain to me how you know these things.”

“You think so huh?”

Bohdan yelled for help and the group rushed into action.

We walked until a little after dark and then made camp. How they fit tents and bedrolls into their packs, I will never know. Honestly, there had to be some kind of spell or enchantment on them to allow so much in one bag without making it explode from over filling. I thought about grabbing Aedan pack or Alistair’s and seeing just how far down the rabbit hole I could go before I hit Wonderland. Or Underland. Maybe Johnny Depp would be there.

Or I could wake up from the Matrix. 

Though, I don’t think I swallowed any blue pills…

My own messenger bag had begun to overflow with my jeans piled into it. Alistair carried my tent and bedroll in his bag to help me. After putting up my tent I sat by the fire with my things set out on the ground to see if I could bundle or bunch anything up to make some room. The bag wasn’t too heavy yet, but sooner or later I would have to dump some stuff. My water bottle stood out. It was heavy and Leliana had an extra water skin that I could carry that was much lighter. No where to dispose of plastic here though. The bottle was set to the left where the stuff I didn’t want would go.

My jeans, those I would be keeping come hell or high water. Rolled up they went in the bottom of the bag. Cody’s utility knife went in as well. The Kindle, but only because I spent so much damned money on it. My phone and the iPod were tucked into side pockets, I would cry if I left them. The scarf I could probably sell, but probably not. The last granola bar I would need at some point.

Herbert sat looking at me from his perch, golden plastic eyes dancing with the firelight. I picked him up, turning him over and dusting off the little bit of dirt he managed to acquire on his furry white bottom. Herbert appeared on my pillow when I was sixteen, just after my parents had all of my wisdom teeth extracted. I was half out of my mind with drugs and pain when my uncle took me home. My parents, despite having made the decision to pull all of the offending teeth, did not go with me. My uncle and aunt had. They put me into bed; let me pass out for a while. When I woke up, my parents were home and Herbert lay next to me on the pillow.

He went into my bag.

The sketchbook. Picking it up and flipping through it reminded me drawing was not my forte. The color pencils and markers though… I picked out the purple and blue I used yesterday and made strike marks on my arms again. The ones I made yesterday and the day before were still fairly vibrant. Four days. Three more and it would be a week.

To my right, Sten stood stoically with his arms crossed and face set. To my right Leliana hummed as she went about setting up her tent. Off in the distance, Morrigan stood by her own fire with her tent set up behind her. Alistair worked on dinner, which did not smell very good even though it was supposed to be venison. Aedan and Leliana managed to take down a deer earlier. The pelt sat out near the edge of the clearing to dry.

I got up to check on my own dinner. A slab of the venison rubbed down with salt, and a little pepper, shoved between two pieces of cast iron, one with a long handle that Bohdan sold me for two silver coins and my loose coppers. Yanking it from the fire and opening it left me with a mouth watering smell. Well, my dinner was ready.

Jax appeared at my side, his butt hitting dirt, slobber dripping from his jowls.

“You’re lucky I like you,” I told him, cutting off the bits of fat I wouldn’t end up eating and feeding them to him. He put his head in my lap while I ate, whining piteously for more food, which of course, I gave him.

Alistair picked up my makeshift cooking utensils, “What is this?”

I shrugged, “Double sided griddle?”

He looked down at the half piece of steak I had left on my plate, a little pink in the middle and decently browned on the top and bottom. “It works?”

“Apparently.”

“Huh,” he sat down as well, nudging Jax’s bottom with his knee.

Leliana sat down on the other side of me, legs crossed as she dipped her spoon into the bowl of grayish mush Alistair concocted. She glanced at my plate, back at hers, and frowned at me. “I think,” she said as she ripped a piece of bread and gave me some, “that you should take over the cooking duties. It would be better for everyone’s digestion.”

Alistair made a pained sound, “Hey! I tried!”

Using my fork I stabbed at one of the grey lumps in his food, “I think you failed.”

He huffed pulling his plate away, “You just don’t know good Ferelden stew when you see it.”

Aedan joined us, standing just to Leliana’s left, “I do, and this,” he tilted his bowl to show us Alistair’s concoction, “is not it.”

“Fine,” Alistair sniffed, “I suppose Elyria can cook from now on then.”

Leliana smiled at me, “Wonderful! I would like to try a dish from your world.”

“Wait,” I said, “I didn’t agree to cook for the lot of you.”

Aedan laughed, “You’d rather we starve?”

Alistair dug his spoon into his food, dragged it out and stuffed it into his mouth. “It’s delicious,” he said around the mouthful, “see? Perfectly ed-” he gagged, coughed and turned slightly green, “edible.”

The dog whined. Leliana and Aedan laughed. I’m pretty certain Sten made a sound though when I looked at him I saw no sign of a change in him. He still stood stoically looking for the entire world like he would turn into a statue any moment.

I sighed. “Alright, alright. Consensus reached. I’ll cook, Alistair can assist. Just, for the love of all you hold dear, please do not ever try to make stew again.”

Watch was split, two hour shifts again. Aedan took first watch, Sten took second, Leliana third with Morrigan, Alistair and I were both assigned fourth. Two people for the early hours, lest one fall asleep. I read once in a health book way back in high school that the body was a clock, and if it is used to sleeping a certain time it will do everything it can to get to sleep. Better safe than sorry I guess.

I was in my tent fast asleep before anyone else; I could still hear their voices when I closed my eyes. When I opened them I was sitting in my dorm room with it’s twenty by twenty cinder block uniformity, slightly off white walls we tried to cover with posters and pictures. Emma braided my hair in medium sized plaits, her short, delicate fingers sifting in and out of my pale strands.

“I missed you,” I told her. I did. We’d been together for four years of our lives, separated only by a subway ride during the summer. 

Emma didn’t say anything, just kept weaving and humming a song. Enya, Bodicea I think. One of the braids fell into my field of vision. My hair wasn’t long enough for the braids to hit my chest. Reaching out, grabbing for it, I brought it up for inspection. It was my hair, summery blonde mixed with paler whiter strands that came naturally. People tended to think I dyed it but I could assure them, the carpet absolutely matched the drapes.

“Ems,” I said holding the hair I knew was my own though I remained uncertain how it got so long in so short a time, “I really missed you.”

Still she didn’t say anything. Another braid tapped against my back as she tied it off. I reached back and grabbed her hand, turning half way around to see her. Only it wasn’t Emma. Leliana sat there, her blue eyes smiling at me with the dying fire behind her. 

Waking up in my tent wasn’t as much of a shock to the system as waking up on the cold, hard ground had been yesterday. I climbed out of my tent, bumping into Alistair as he came to wake me. No armor on, thankfully or he might have bruised my shoulder this time instead of my elbow. Still he was pretty damn solid under that tunic and whatever else was keeping him warm.

“You,” I poked him in the stomach only to find his flesh didn’t give too much, “are seriously built, huh?”

The tips of his ears stained red, one of his hands brushed down over where I’d poke him. “I…ah…we…we should better...” His eyes dipped low before they shot to the side awkwardly.

I looked down. I’d taken off my bra for comfortable sleep and now that there was some cold air mixing in with the warm air under my clothes my breasticles decided to make spectacles of themselves. The girls were sitting up and saying good morning. Embarrassed I pulled my sweatshirt away from my chest. “I’m gonna…” I ducked back into my tent. The bra went back on. I pulled my hoodie over everything and ventured back out. Alistair looked much less embarrassed now that he didn’t have my twins waving at him.

He avoided meeting my gaze, forcing me to smack his arm.

“Oi, if we’re going to go through the whole blight together, we’re going to see a lot more and do a lot more embarrassing crap than  _ that _ .”

Alistair laughed a little nervously as we patrolled around the perimeter of the camp, “You sound certain of that.”

“Wait until you wake up with morning wood and it won’t go away. Imagine having to face Leliana, Morrigan or me with your hands attempting to cover-”

“Holy maker,” Alistair covered his eyes with one hand, his cheek pinkish in the semi-dark, “I get the idea.”

Bumping my shoulder into his, “Hey, could have been worse. You could have seen me naked. I’d never live  _ that _ down.”

We patrolled around in a circle, listening and keeping an eye out. I didn’t think there would be much to see and there wasn’t. A little light began to creep up into the east. My stomach rumbled something awful.

Alistair smirked at me, “You’re cooking.”

I glared at him, “Get me some eggs punk.”

“What is a p-unk?” He distorted the word in an attempt to understand it.

“Find me eggs and I’ll tell you. Go.”

He marched off in search and I went back into camp. Bread, hard cheese, some butter and a cast iron frying pan. I could do this on scale for seven. Absolutely. I hoped.

Alistair returned with eggs nicked from a wild chicken’s nest. He had the scratches on his hand to prove it. He went to put his armor back on while I cooked. Bread with a little butter, eggs scrambled with cheese melted in. 

Aedan woke first, a startled yell coming from his tent.

I’d almost forgotten about the nightmares wardens had. I tried to act like I hadn’t noticed when he came out of his tent. He and Alistair had the dreams chat and then Aedan ducked back into his tent, presumably to put his armor back on.

Sten was up next, then Leliana.

“Good morning,” she said, “It smells wonderful.”

I began dishing out food when Sandal walked over. He looked up at me with his big eyes, “Miss ‘lyria.”

I blinked at him. Well do me sideways with a rubber duck. I knew he could say more than  **enchantment** , but damn. He said  _ my _ name. Wowza. “Morning Sandal.”

He smiled all gums and teeth like a little boy, “Morning.”

I handed him a slice of bread with a little melted cheese on it. “Eat up. You’re a growing boy.” He stuck half of it in his mouth and trekked back to his father like an excited child.

Aedan groaned as he ate, “If you keep cooking like this, I’ll marry you.”

One eyebrow raised, I plopped down next to him, “And who says I would have you?”

Leliana folded her legs and sat down on the opposite side of him, “Why would she want you? A woman with the ability to cook well is a prize to many men.”

I snorted, “Yeah, tell my ex-boyfriend that.”

She waved me off, “Completely unworthy of your affections.”

“Idiot,” Aedan agreed around a mouthful of eggs.

Alistair sat down as well, Jax in tow. “Who is an idiot?”

“Elyria’s former beau,” Leliana told him, “He was not very bright, obviously if he chose to leave her.”

Alistair took a bite of the eggs, “Right. Complete moron.”

That morning was the first morning I was actually alright with being in Thedas.


	5. Part One, Chapter Five

Chapter 5: 

It would be almost a week and up the coast of Lake Calenhad on foot. The words bounced around in my head like a graphic scene from a horror movie. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve hiked and I’ve rock climbed and once a very long time ago in a high school long forgotten I tried out for the track team. A week on foot. A full week in Thedas time was still apparently a seven days. Each day was a full twenty four hours. Mentally calculating how long we would actually be walking left me groaning inwardly.

As we walked we passed people migrating. The smart ones were heading toward Gwaren to catch a boat to Kirkwall. Others, as I found when I stopped people to ask about trading for food and supplies, were heading to Denerim or to a family member’s home for safety. So many, many of them believed this wasn’t a true blight.

Far too often during the days I caught myself looking up at trees like a tourist seeing Manhattan for the first time. These trees were older and taller than any tree I ever seen outside a forest reserve. Most had roots that burrowed deeply into the ground and split the grassy land around them like thick sun-baked worms. 

At night there were the stars in the night sky. Never in my life had I ever seen so many stars. I blinked up at the million upon millions of tiny white pinpricks in the heavens and my mouth fell open in awe. 

Would this have been what my world looked like without all the pollution?

The sun had barely begun to set on the third day of travel when Aedan called camp.

“Elyria,” he called, motioning to me to join him instead of helping to set up the fire.

Almost afraid I’d done something wrong, I walked over to him, “What’s up?”

His brow creased in the most adorable way as he tried to process what I’d said.

“Informal expression from my world meaning; What’s going on. What did you need?”

“Ah,” he nodded, “we have to discuss something.”

A cold shiver shot up my spine. “Alright.”

“You confessed you’ve never killed before the genlock, and I’ve been able to keep you safely out of battle since.” He sighed deeply, his brow creasing, he rubbed his eyes in a tired motion. “I need you to be able to fight or we may have to leave you behind.”

Badum-bum, there it was the moment I dreaded from the minute we entered Lothering. “I know,” I told him, my head bowed, “I know. Do you think I could still get to Gwaren from here?” Maybe I could sell off my colored pencils and notebooks for some money. I could try to find Hawke and-

The look he shot me then, as if I’d lost my mind and was spitting gibberish at him. “What? Elyria,” he sighed again, this time putting a hand on my shoulder. “No, no, I don’t want to leave you behind. I want you with us, but if you can’t fight I cannot in good conscience keep you on. You would be in too much danger.”

“Oh,” I said dumbly, feeling like I should smack myself with the stupid stick. “I’m not a complete loss. I did fence back home, and I was pretty good,” I knocked three seniors on their self righteous asses, “but…” I sighed. No excuses. If he was willing to stick his neck out for me I could tell him what need to be worked on. “But these long swords aren’t what I’ve worked with and I’m only just getting used to being able to move in this armor.”

His head bobbed, “Then we know what to do. Alistair,” he called motioning for the other warden to join us.

“Yes?” Alistair asked.

“Do you think you could help Elyria learn to defend herself?”

Alistair’s gaze changed slightly, he stood back from me looking me up and down for several moments. Regarding me much like a teacher instead of the boy-man he really was deep down inside. “I think so,” he said finally, “you move well enough and you know how to hold a blade. We can spar and we’ll see if you would lean more toward a warrior’s abilities or a rogue’s. If it is the latter, Leliana might be more help than I would be.”

“Or ask Morrigan, you could be magically inclined,” Aedan added with a saucy wink.

I think Alistair’s expression was similar to mine when he said that; sheer horror with a touch of dread. “No,” I said, “I wouldn’t ask Morrigan for anything but a tall glass of snark with some cold shoulder as a chaser.”

“Ooo,” Alistair thought aloud, “I’m going to use that one.”

We decided to work on my staggering lack of battle prowess during morning patrol. After dinner wouldn’t work out, my internal clock put me to sleep earlier because we were always getting up before the crack of dawn. Not to mention I was getting more exercise in one day than I would usually get in one week at home. We had a set pace to keep on our way up the coast of Lake Calenhad, and we kept it come hell or the spawn of darkness.

As I had every night before, I passed out in my tent before everyone else. My last memory was of Leliana’s voice talking about her time as a bard in Orlais with Aedan. I heard her flirty girly giggle and sighed inwardly. So that was the romance he was going for. Better than Morrigan I supposed. My eyes closed, the lids heavy and weary. When they opened again I was again back in my world or the dream state that I referred to as my world.

I was on top of the giant brass mushroom in the Alice in Wonderland display in Central Park, my feet planted, a pair of short swords held loosely in my hands. I wore battle gear, and for once I felt warm in it. Almost too warm. I looked off into the distance toward the tree line watching the sway and thrash of the branches in heavy winds. Something roared cracking the sky like thunder in the distance. Deep down my dream self knew it wasn’t the harsh metal on metal sound of a car accident or the brash scrape of a dump truck. 

Em stood near me on one side and Cody on the other, his foot planted on the white rabbit’s head. Cody drew a bow, wicked looking black fired sylvan etched with something shimmering and Em held a winding staff of brass, and silver snakes bound to solid white oak that glowed a cool electric blue interspersed with bursts of orange. The beast roared again, closer this time but still out beyond the tree line. Wings flapped, large leathery wings driving the air down with the force of the creature’s lift.

Fear tightened my chest, knotting my muscles. My breath came in quick pants and a light sheen of sweat slicked my skin. I gripped the swords tightly and told myself that Alistair and Aedan would be there. 

The trees of central park lit up with the yellow-orange of dragon fire. Animals came out of the tree line running for their lives. Raccoons, squirrels, birds, an opossum or two, all ran away from the oncoming danger. Insects dove pasts us, buzzing in a frenzy to save themselves. Cody, Em and I all stood our ground.

“They’ll be here soon,” I told my friends, “The Wardens won’t leave us to fight this thing alone.” 

Em looked up at me, her voice higher as the wind began to bellow, “Who?”

“Aedan,” I called to her over the sound of the dragon’s third roar and the wind shrieking around us, “Alistair. The wardens. They’ll be here.”

A hand on my shoulder turned me around, I looked into Cody’s eyes. He gave me a smile, a tired one and said, “Wake up Ellie.”

I sat up much too quickly in my tent, my forehead knocking into Alistair’s nose. He cried out in pain and so did I. I rubbed the smarting spot on my skull and he did the same, glaring at me in the semi-darkness. 

“What are you doing in here?” I snapped at him. Last night I’d gone to sleep with some of my armor on, so my ladies were not waking up to say hello to him this morning. Still, I felt self-conscious with a man in my tent. One who didn’t have an invitation to be in here in the first place by the by. 

“You were having a nightmare,” his voice sounded almost like he had a stuffy head cold, no doubt because he was holding his nose. What he actually said sounded more like; ‘Yob ber habing a nibmare.’

The person telling me to wake up in my dream hadn’t been Cody, but Alistair. Still rubbing my head, because I hit him pretty damn hard, “Sorry…I, you okay? Did I break your nose?” I didn’t see any blood spurting but that didn’t mean it wasn’t broken. “My brother always says I’m hard headed.” Not a compliment or a joke when the golden boy said it, but I took it as such because it annoyed the hell out of him.

He moved his hand a couple of times massaging the cartilage before letting go. No blood. “I think my nose and I will be fine, though I don’t think I need to teach you to use a weapon after all. Just run head first into the enemy and…” he voice died off as he started laughing at me, or rather my expression.

I blinked at him in the dark, my mouth open in an O of shock (and mild annoyance), “Did you just sass me warden?”

He ducked out of my tent still chuckling at his own joke “Come on Elyria, you’re not going to learn anything sleeping in.”

The morning was just as chilly as the ones before it. I wanted to pull on my jeans but refrained. I couldn’t wear them at home while fencing, the hell if I could wear them now. Alistair and I set up about twenty to thirty feet from the camp. He wore lighter armor, not full plate like he had been before. Feeling mildly insulted I realized he downgraded to spar with me. 

We spent a good half hour with him attacking and me defending. Slowly of course. My stamina, being a college girl who didn’t workout much wasn’t up to par. It didn’t take long before my elbow started to droop and my shoulder sagged with the weight of my weapon. It may not have been very heavy but it was heavier than I was used to and that made all the difference.

Alistair grimaced at me as he watched me gulp down water and wipe at my sweaty forehead. “We may need to find you a different weapon.” We had though, at the beginning he switched out my long sword for a short sword to see if that made a difference. It didn’t much.

Leaning my back against a tree, “I told you, the weapon I’m used to using is much lighter. And I don’t use it to hurt other people.” Unless you counted their egos, in which case yes, I did hurt a lot of people. In particular several people who made the mistake of underestimating me because I’m petite and blonde.

A profound sense of loss hit me. How many days of classes had I missed? People must have known I was missing by now. Had my parents been called? Were their signs up of me, a class photo or one of Emma’s pictures that said “Missing” at the top in stark black letters? Did my professors pause at my name and look around the classroom for me? Did they just skip over me? Did Emma-

“Elyria,” Alistair called his tone stern. “You cannot lose focus like that, you could be killed.”

Knocked unconscious, I corrected mentally, because no one actually died in this game unless it was part of the story. If it worked toward the greater benefit of progressing the twisted tale of Dragon Age Origins, then someone died. Not any of the active party though. Which I hoped counted me; technically I shouldn’t have been there. Technically I wasn’t-

“Elyria,” Alistair’s stern tone again, arms crossed over his chest, watching me pointedly. 

“Alright, alright, I’m turning off the inner monologue, happy?”

His brow creased briefly, “Inner monologue?”

“Yeah, like this,” shifting my voice to sound like the voice over guy for  **Xena: Warrior Princess** and  **Hercules: The Legendary Journeys** , “Stuck in a world she didn’t belong in, Elyria Duke must aide the last two Grey Wardens fight the Blight.”

The corners of his mouth ticked upward, “Is that what the voice in your head sounds like?”

“Nah, sounds more like me, only less Brooklyn.” I raised my sword again, but my shoulder still sagged and my elbow cried out in protest. “I think you’re right, different sword. The one I’m used to isn’t this heavy.” The weapon he’d given me was heavy iron and easily weighed between ten and twelve pounds. My average fencing weapon weight: Approximately two pounds.

In the distance the rising sun began to turn the sky a reddish purple. Red skies in the morning sailors take warning. The old adage I learned from my cousin, Joseph, who owned a boat house. A few days before Hurricane – wait sorry –  _ Superstorm _ Sandy, he undocked his house and took a trip up the coast to Maine. Where he decided to retire and eat lobster for the rest of his life. Lucky bastard.

The grimace Alistair sent me was not encouraging. “Elyria anything shorter than that is considered a dagger, and I am certain you don’t want to get close enough to use one of those.”

“Well crap,” that sucked. Steadying my right hand with my left helped some. “Okay Obi Wan. Let’s break out the training droid.”

Head cocked to one side making him look like a little like a lost puppy, “The what?”

Bowing my head, “Never mind.” I sighed, motioning with one hand, “Lay on MacDuff.”

“Who?”

Groaning, “I am surrounded by philistines.”

Alistair walloped me repeatedly until it was time to work on getting everyone fed. My whole body had that liquid fatigued feel, like my legs, knees and other such joints would give out any second and I would flop onto the ground like a jellyfish. Somehow I managed to get around the fire without burning myself too badly, and serve up the last of the venison with salt and pepper. We were going to have to resort to hard tack, cheese and whatever veggies we could negotiate off of people or found in the wild unless someone killed another deer, or – bleh – a couple of rabbits soon.

My kingdom for some potatoes. Po-ta-toes.

I’m too tall to be a hobbit, honest.

When I sat on the ground I winced, because he’d knocked me on my bottom earlier to prove a point. My mind drifted off to thoughts of home again during part of the lesson. The templar took some initiative and disarmed me with enough force to lie me out flat. My back hurt a little too, as did my shoulder and my hips. I felt almost sorry for anyone on the receiving end of him actually trying to hurt them. He hit like a freight train going eighty eight miles per hour. Which was fair comparison considering how solid Alistair was under all that armor.

Alistair frowned at me, a deep crease between his eyebrows, as he settled near me, plate in hand. “Did I injure you?”

Waving him off I shook my head, “Serves me right for letting my mind wander.”

Aedan must have overheard us, he also sat down, food in hand, “Perhaps it might be better if I took over, or Leliana. This isn’t a life you are used to. A different approach might be a better choice.”

The idea appealed to me but… I picked at the food on my plate, honestly not the least bit hungry but knowing I had to eat  _ something _ or I would pay the price later. “You’ll go easy on me,” my voice soft, resigned, “So would Leliana. I’d be more of a hindrance than a help in the long run and I’ll get myself or, infinitely worse, someone else killed.”

Aedan’s blue eyes drifted over to Alistair, “And Alistair bruising you up will do what exactly?”

I shrugged, which made me hiss in pain, my back stiffening. I caught Aedan glaring at Alistair who looked adequately contrite. “Oh for the love of…”I poked Aedan in his shoulder, “Stop it, he taught me a good lesson this morning. If I want to stay on my toes I don’t let my guard down.”

“He could have done that  _ without _ harming you.”

“No, really, it’s better this way. I’ll have a reminder for a few days to pay attention or live with the consequences.” The small slices of cheese I took for myself tasted bland, much like the bread but I forced them down. The venison scraps too.

Leliana climbed out of her tent looking fresh as morning dew. Not a single red hair out of place. Both men looked up at her as she stretched her arms toward the sky and said good morning. Their eyes lingered on her. She was pretty, and she was sweet and nice and capable. Oh and she could sing like a, well to use her future name, nightingale. Most of all Leliana belonged here, in this world.

I didn’t. A utterly unavoidable and obvious fact staring me in the face. 

Eyes cast downward to my plate, swallowing back the bitter envy and jealousy clawing at my insides. It shouldn’t have bothered me, Aedan looking at her. It did though. Now I really didn’t want to eat anything at all but Jax was somewhere off doing whatever dogs like to do when they’re on their own. I couldn’t just waste the food when people were literally starving to death. As I contemplated what to do with my unwanted meal Alistair got up to get more, leaving it just Aedan and me for a moment.

“Elyria,” Aedan’s voice came out a little lower than normal, deeper. He almost had that boyfriend tone, which made my heart jump in little staccato back flips.

“What?” I asked refusing to let myself look at him.

Ungloved fingers brushed still damp strands of my hair back from my face, “What’s wrong?”

Shaking my head, lying through my teeth, I forced the best smile I could and said, “Nothing, absolutely nothing.”

He took my plate from me, setting it on the ground with his. My heart beat went double time when his hand brushed mine. “Elyria.” He touched my shoulder and I met his gaze. He didn’t say anything. Blue eyes studied me for a breath or two. “Something is wrong. What is it?”

Don’t do it. Don’t. I told myself not to. I had to cut this crush down to size and end it as soon as humanly possible but my head and my heart were just  **not** in agreement. They each wanted something out of me. My head wanted me to protect myself in this place, to be careful because this could end in disaster and heartbreak. My heart said to go for it with full steam ahead. My head cautioned my heart not to sound too much like the captain from the Titanic. My heart flipped my head the bird with both hands.

Aedan had this charming look on his face, curiosity mixed with hopefulness and trust. His hand on my shoulder slid down my arm, not letting go but not exactly holding on. “Tell me, please?”

Christ, my chest squeezed painfully. Worse than that time I tried on a corset for my sister’s wedding. “Nothing,” I lied again, “just tired. I’ll be okay.”

Aedan frowned, not believing me obviously but not willing to push for an answer. “Alright,” he said after a handful of seconds. He took my plate with his to Jax who reappeared and had begun to trot toward us for food scraps.

I rubbed my face in my hands and thought about screaming. Back home, I had what Cody and I deemed a scream pillow. I would bury my face into a dense pillow, wrap it around my head to muffle the sound and I would holler until my throat gave out. Everywhere I lived I had one, my parent’s house, and school, at Cody’s before he died. Instead I put my pent up energy into taking down my tent, rolling up the sleeping roll and helping clean up camp. There was time still before we had to leave, so I took myself off a little way away from everyone and clawed at the ground until I made a decent sized hole.

Then I pressed my face against its edges and bellowed my lungs out. Walking back to camp I felt better, though my vocal chords weren’t much happier than the rest of my body happened to be at the moment. 

Marilyn Manson, Limp Bizket, Eminem, Guns N’ Roses, The Kills, Steppenwolf, Motley Crue. My angry playlist helped a little to vent out everything as we walked. I kept picturing Leliana and Aedan talking earlier that day and the way he bumped his shoulder into hers. Jealousy, that ugly green bitch, flared up inside my chest like molten lava. 

To say I was in a bad mood would have been a complete and utter understatement. Logic told me to shut down my iPod to save the battery. I didn’t of course, mostly out of anger and jealousy and irritation with men in general.

There were hours and hours until Aedan called camp and even then I could still be subjected to watching the two of them interact. I kept my eyes on the ground to avoid looking at either of them. I could still hear her voice over the sound of my iPod which just got me even more annoyed so I turned my music up in response. I started singing the lyrics under my breath to drown out anything loud enough to get through. As the goddamn cherry on the goddamn cake of the day, every single one of my muscles  _ hurt _ . 

Being sore tomorrow and knowing I had to work with Alistair again just made me want to punch someone. Hard. In the nose. No. What I really wanted to punch a hole in the space time continuum and  **go home** . Back where Aedan, Leliana, Alistair, Morrigan and Sten were just pixels on the screen. Where I could shut off my computer and just go back to being a post teenage girl with a NYC attitude and –

The world wobbled. For a second I thought it might be my legs, or maybe just my knees. Even low blood pressure but it wasn’t. The world actually  **moved** under my feet. I stopped in my tracks as the ground literally shook underneath me. One of the ear buds fell out. I heard a tremendous groaning rumble. The ground cracked open underneath me much too quickly and I slid into the semi-darkness.

Darkspawn didn’t greet me with their bloody, feral smiles thank you sweet fluffy spaghetti monster. Actually nothing greeted me but dense walls of earth and the light at the top of the crack in the ground. It was deep enough that I would probably have trouble climbing out, but not deep enough to scare me. The walls and floor of the crack rippled a little with aftershocks. I heard voices calling to me, half drowned out from the single earbud that managed to stay in place. The shaking gave way to nothingness again. Huh, earthquakes not followed by darkspawn spewing from the ground. Interesting. I pulled the ear bud out of my ear and shut off my iPod, calling back, “I’m fine.” Taking mental stock of myself I found I really was okay aside from the feeling of having been hit by a MACK truck.

Faces appeared above me, Aedan asked Morrigan if she knew a levitation spell. The mage answered with a negative of course. Jax whined. Alistair and Leliana were working on getting a rope down to me. Sten, always helpful, said perhaps I should stay down there. 

Rolling my eyes at all of them I trotted over to the narrowest part of the crack in the ground and shoved my back against one side and pressed my feet and hands against the other. My mom really hates the classes I take at school, mostly because they’re all over the place and not conducive to obtaining a husband. If my course load were up to her she’d have me in every class advantageous to obtaining an Mrs degree by graduation. I on the other hand actually liked taking the rock climbing seminar last spring. I signed up for the second part for next spring. 

A class I probably would never get to take if I stayed in Thedas.

Using my feet and back as leverage I pushed myself up the wall slowly, carefully avoiding digging my fingers into the dirt too deeply. The last thing I needed today was to fall down and damage myself even further. It was only about eight feet up. I’d easily climbed higher than that, though in class I had a clip and rope and someone spotting me from the ground. Climbing up like the way I did took a while. Dirt fell down inside my armor. My boots left foot sized dents in the wall When I neared the top Aedan leaned down, grasping my hands with his and helping me up the rest of the way.

Dusting myself off I glanced at Sten, my eyebrows raised and said, “Maybe you should try that, huh big guy? What do you say, I’ll wait up here, arms crossed and you can climb  **yourself** out of a hole taller than you.”

He looked to Aedan instead and said stoically, “We should move on.”

“I’ll take that as an, ‘you’re right Elyria, I’m sorry’ or whatever the Qunari equivalent would be.” 

He said nothing though some kind of acknowledgement flitted across his face.

Leliana wrapped me up in a big hug, “I thought you were done for, I am so happy you are alright.”

Damn it. As angry as I had been about her and Aedan flirting, I just couldn’t actually be mad at her when she was all sweet and kind and stuff. Damn it. Awkwardly I hugged her back, “It’s just a couple more bruises to add to my tally for the day, nothing to get excited about. Holy cow.”

She pulled away, obviously confused, “Holy cow? Are cows holy where you are from?”

“Um yeah, in some religions.” I stepped back adjusting my stuff, checking everything in my bag and finding nothing out of place. I found everyone staring at me. “What? Am I bleeding or something? What?”

Alistair did the honors, he held out a strand of my hair to me. My blonde hair was red and brown at the back of my skull. I rubbed the back of my head and found I’d scraped myself up pretty good in the fall. Added to the climb back up I’d probably aggravated the wound while managing to matt my hair with dirt. The blood mixed with the dirt in a cakey muddy substance that smelled of rust and muck and lord knows whatever else.

“Can today get any better?” I groaned, touching the back of my head gingerly, “Seriously, all we need now is for a big ass dragon to swoop down from the heavens and attack. That would chalk up today’s crap level to a ten.”

“Swooping dragons would be bad,” Alistair added in all seriousness.

I couldn’t help it. I snorted throwing a half hearted punch at his shoulder. “You are so lame.”


	6. Part One, Chapter Six

Chapter 6:

I don’t know how, nor did I want to guess but Aedan managed to find us a place to sleep near a run off pond from Lake Calenhad. I left the cooking to Alistair once I set everything up and took of to the pond to get cleaned up. As I had so many days ago behind Morrigan and Flemeth’s hut, I shucked all the clothing I could and rubbed myself down with – freezing – water and some scented soap that Leliana gave me. I also took a dagger, one set for sale when we got to a town or met a traveling merchant. The fur on my legs and under my arms had grown out to prickly, itchy lengths and I was  _ not _ happy about it.

Shaving wasn’t a problem; neither was washing the rest of me. Scrubbing my hair, however, turned out to be the only real issue I had. My arms didn’t want to lift much higher than above my shoulders. Just as I began to resign myself to having to dive into the lake, and hope that worked, footsteps approached. 

“Leliana,” I called back, because she said she’d join me in a few minutes and it had been more like twenty, “do you think you could help me with my hair? After the workout my arms went through today, I think my muscles have gone on protest.”

A male voice cleared his throat and I jumped, clutching at my longsword with my cold hands. Aedan stood there, not exactly stripped down but not exactly in armor either. His hands were up, palms out, a none too apologetic smile on his face. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d gone with Leliana over by the rocks.” He motioned out toward the left beyond some grey boulders.

I blushed hotly to the roots of my hair, “I thought she was coming here.” I felt like I should have pulled on more clothing but that would have been silly. I was wearing the leather leggings that went under the skirt of my armor and my tank top and bra. Legitimately all my important girl parts were covered, but then this world was stuck somewhere back in the renaissance. A hint of wrist or ankle could have been construed as flirting.

Also, he made me nervous. I’d been with my ex about three months before he ever saw me naked. Aedan, however, made me feel naked even when I was fully clothed. Especially when he was watching me with those ridiculously blue eyes that made my insides melt like butter.

“Elyria,” he said approaching, “you can put the weapon down.”

I blinked, looked at the weapon in my hand and then at him. Blushing hotter, “Right, sorry,” I lowered the blade and went about picking up my clothes. “I’ll, um…go over to wherever Leliana is. I’m sure you and Alistair could use your brother in arms bonding time.”

He set his things down near mine, “Alistair and Sten are watching the camp.” He began pulling up his plain tunic, “You don’t have to leave.”

I swallowed as six pack abs came into view. Right. Nope. Did not have to leave. The hell I didn’t. Oh. My. Fluffy.  _ Lord _ . 

I closed my eyes, turned my head as my girly bits went up in flames. My brain and heart were suddenly on the same page throwing up twin white flags of surrender stamped with his name in italic bold font, triple underline. I heard him chuckling this deep masculine sound from his chest. My blushing went from the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes.

“Elyria,” he said my name again – dear fluffy deities in the sky please help me – I couldn’t help turning my head back to meet his gaze.

I tried to keep my eyes on his face. I did. Try that is. “Um,” I said my brain failing to come up with anything good to say, “yes?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

I blinked at him was he teasing me? Or had he really asked me something? Were my girl hormones were just distracting me enough to make me deaf? Possible. Happened that one time I met a guy who looked exactly like Richard Armitage and he’d apparently asked for my number. Never called but that is neither here nor there. “Um, what question?”

The damn chuckling again, those blue eyes alight with mischief and humor, “Do you want me to help you?”

Okay, I’d had boyfriends offer to brush my hair before. Cody used rub my back to help me sleep when we were camping, but that is the furthest any guy had offered to go for me. Helping my pick blood, muck and mud out of my hair? A first for me.

“Okay,” I said lamely.

He motioned for me to sit down and then he sat down behind me. He used the full water skin, dripping it on his fingers and then working them through the mess my hair had become in slow, patient movements. Unlike the handful of times I let a boyfriend brush my hair, Aedan didn’t yank or pull when he came to a knot. He worked on it until it loosened and moved on to the next one. I don’t know how long we’d been sitting there, but the moon had gone high in the sky, shining down on the pond water, turning it silver with moonlight.

My eyelids were drooping and I thought I might just drift off. I think I might have because Aedan’s voice woke me. Blearily I blinked, uncertain of where I was and then I remembered. Thedas, Ferelden, Aedan. He was propping me up, my back against his chest, my bottom between his legs, and my head against his left shoulder. His hands rubbed up and down my arms generating warmth. Neither of us spoke for the longest time, me out of fear of breaking the quiet moment and him, I don’t know.

Finally he said my name, “Elyria.” His voice was low, velvety near my ear.

I turned my head toward him, “Yes?”

The fingers of one hand trailed over the skin of my inner elbow, while his other arm wrapped around my waist, “I have been thinking.”

My stomach sank, “About?”

He chuckled, “You sound worried.” He tipped my head up to see my face, blue eyes searching mine, “You shouldn’t be.” Aedan smiled at me in the moonlight, lowering his face, pressing his lips against mine in a gentle slow kiss that I returned.

My whole body sang as his hands worked against my skin, massaging and caressing while we kissed. I slipped my tongue between his lips garnering an appreciative moan and an increase in the fervor of our kissing. At some point I turned around in his grasp, kneeling on the cool grass, and tangled my fingers in his dark locks. He didn’t seem to mind at all. His hands went to my hips, drawing me closer still. Heat practically radiated off of him, or maybe we were generating enough together to warm the air around us. Didn’t matter though, I just really, really wanted to keep kissing him.

He groaned deep in his throat, “Elyria.”

I smiled against his mouth, nipping his lower lip gently, “Yes Warden, what can I do for you?”

Aedan’s hands slid up to my waist, “I can think of a few things.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mmm,” he pressed his lips back against mine again, tongue slipping past my lips to twine with mine. “When I’m with you,” he murmured against my lips, “I can forget about the blight, about my family and -”

“Shh,” I whispered, my hands rubbing his shoulders and back, “Aedan, don’t. It will be alright. In the end, it will be. You’ll see your brother again, the blight will end. I promise you, it will.”

He looked up at me with those deep blue eyes, sapphires in the moonlight, “One day you’re going to explain to me how you know these things.”

Gently I bit his lower lip again, “Will I?”

Aedan’s warm hands cupped my bottom, “I think so.”

“Do you now?”

“I do.” He pulled me down into his lap so that I was straddling his thighs and some very excited manly parts. “I think, Elyria, I could get you to tell me.”

“Uh huh,” I murmured, “sure you could.”

Just as his hands were straying under my tank top, and up my poor abused back, we heard a pair of voices. Leliana and Alistair were nearby, though I don’t think they’d managed to see us. Aedan raised an eyebrow at me, asking a silent question. I shrugged in response, pressing my mouth back to his. He didn’t seem to mind in the least, his hands continuing to roam across my skin rather than begin to pull away.

“Do you think it was a good idea leaving Morrigan behind with Sten?” Alistair said in that mildly worried tone he seemed to take on when it came to the wilder witch and the Qunari.

“Would you rather look for the Warden and Elyria with one of them, or with me?” Leliana asked.

“I,” Alistair began, pause and then began again, sounding resigned, “with you.”

“Besides,” Leliana said, “there are not many things Morrigan could do to Sten. She simply annoys him.” 

The duo broke through the tree line just as Aedan found the spot on my neck that made me claw at his back and cry his name. I rocked my hips against his making him groan deeply in response and press back against me. I think we were both too out of it by that point to notice where either of them went after they found us or what apologies were made while they were retreating. 

I felt his teeth on my neck, sucking nipping biting. “Marking your territory Warden?”

Aedan brushed my hair back eyeing the red spot he created, “I might be.” His eyebrows rose, “do you mind?”

“No, I don’t.” And I didn’t.

I left him to get washed up, something I apparently distracted him from doing earlier. Imagine that.  _ I  _ **distracted** _ him. _ Oh that man. I dumped my sweat shirt back in the tent with the messenger bag and helped myself to the lamb stew I left Alistair cooking. Ugh, bad idea. Grayish, probably salty and bubbling over the fire, it had crusted on the cast iron pot. The bread was almost too hard, but I ripped a piece off anyway. 

Jax plopped himself in front of me while I attempted to eat Alistair’s lamb stew. Had I expected it to be salty? Of course. Overcooked? Yep, expected that too. It was a solidly uniform grey with a goopy texture. I did not, however, expect it to be spicy too. He must have dumped every ounce of pepper we had reserved for cooking into the pot. Spitting the mess back on the plate just made things worse, because dear spaghetti monster in the sky the  ** _after taste_ ** . The only description available was the way the monkey enclosure at the Bronx Zoo stank. I gagged and downed half my water skin.

“It is terrible,” Leliana told me as I dumped the slop Alistair called stew into the fire.

I wanted to scrape my tongue with my fingernails to get everything off my taste buds. Instead I sipped water, swished it around my mouth then spit it on the ground. “You’re telling me, sweet fluffy lord.” Thankfully I still had the one granola bar left, and there was the bread. “He is forbidden to cook ever again. I don’t care if I’m dead or dying. I don’t care if you have to get Felemeth to raise me from the dead. I don’t care if I lose both hands and have to use my feet. He. Is.  **Forbidden** .”

Her lips spit into a smile, “You would rise from your grave to ensure we are fed properly?”

“Hells yes,” ripping my bread apart I fed some to Jax who gobbled it down happily. “Next farm we go by I’m going to see if I can trade for some more bread and cheese, maybe some herbs and vegetables. I can make enough cheesy bread to feed a small army. Seeing as Alistair no doubt used up our  _ entire _ supply of pepper and salt, I’ll try to get some extra.”

Perhaps it was because I knew she might have begun to invest feelings in Aedan or maybe it was just me feeling guilty. Either way there seemed to be some underlying tension between Leliana and me. I scratched Jax’s head as I fed him the rest of my bread, “Hey, Leliana, um, look I’m sorry if -”

Her hand rose in that universal stop gesture, “I thought, perhaps, the Warden may have been interested in pursuing your affections while we were still in Lothering.”

Oh. Okay then. “So, what was up with all the flirting the other night? I went to bed and you were talking to him and the giggling and…”

“The Warden wished to know how a woman such as I am,” her eyes rolled heavenward in a classically sarcastic eye roll, “ended up as a lay sister of the chantry.”

The conversation could have lead to him romancing her but obviously did not, hence the kissing me earlier. From a purely academic standpoint these interactions were absolutely fascinating. With the induction of a separate, previously unaccounted for entity, namely me, to the equation the story changed in very subtle ways. Where Leliana and Morrigan may have been romance options before, my presence gave another side story to pursue entirely.

Huh. I wondered what loyalty quest would be. Did I even have one? Did the rules that applied to the Warden apply to me as well? Could I only have so many conversation options with each person or could I trigger others? Was I going to have to win over loyalty or did someone have to win over mine?

The last granola bar tasted wonderful, like machine processed goodness. The sticky marshmallow binding everything together made me a little home sick. I savored it to the very last chocolate chip and oat-grain bite, only forgoing the licking of the wrapper because I didn’t want to make a spectacle of myself. 

Aedan returned and not long after Alistair, both looking a little cleaner. Aedan, as always, freshly shaved. Alistair with stubbly darkness around his jaw, the kind I could only get him to have when I installed a mod or two. Again, reality was interesting in comparison to game play.

Aedan sat down next to me, wisely foregoing the food in favor of cheese and bread. “The morning watch shift,” he said as he held out a sliver of hard cheese to me, “are you certain you wouldn’t rather I work with you?”

Taking the proffered food from him, “If you want to Aedan, it is fine either way. I just don’t want anyone treating me like some fragile thing. I won’t break, sure I bruise but hey, I’m a bourgeois city girl. It is going to take a little while to toughen me up.”

His head bobbed, “Alright. For now I’ll leave it to Alistair. We’ll see how things are by the time we get to the Circle.” He leaned over planting a kiss against my lips. 

I think he might have meant it to be chaste but with the newness to our relationship, it lead to just a little more. I slid my arms around his neck as his went around my waist. His hands massaged my back, pulling me in close until I sighed his name between kisses.

Aedan pulled away, a groan caught in his throat. The dark fringe of his hair fell into his eyes, “I don’t know what it is about you.” His fingers tucked a few strands of my hair behind one of my ears, “Go back to your tent before I try to get you into mine.”

Feigning shock, “Aedan, what kind of girl do you think I am?”

He pulled me up to my feet pressing a very prominent part of his anatomy against my belly, as he held me tightly. He gave me that smile of his, dark and sexy, “The kind of woman I know I’m willing to wait for, but too tempted not to.”

Gah. My knees threatened to turn into jello and my lady bits waved their flags of surrender in his direction. He could have taken me all he had to do was  _ ask _ . I pushed up closing the distance between his 6’3” frame and my 5’5”, and kissed him again, “As you wish.”

I went into my tent, grinning like a mad woman and twice as happy.

Alistair didn’t have to wake me the next morning. I was already strapping my armor on over my shirt when he came out of his. Aedan woke me up with several good morning kisses and cold hands tickling me under my clothes. If he hadn’t been kissing me to muffle my cries of ‘cold’ I might have woken the whole of the camp. 

“Morning,” I said giving the templar a little wave.

“Good morning,” he replied sounding just as tired as I still felt.

Once again Alistair and I didn’t venture too far from the camp. He didn’t wear as much armor as he had the day before. Maybe because he realized I could not possibly hurt him as badly as he could me.

“So, what’s on the lesson plan for the morning? Paint the house? Wax the car? Just don’t ask me to sand the floor.” I asked as I stretched to loosen up. My arms felt sore but I could lift them higher than the night previous. Rolling my shoulders made them ache decently, and my back was still tender as anything.

Alistair shook his head, no doubt dismissing my reference because he didn’t get it. “I don’t know how to go about this. You are capable. You have a good instinct for survival but…” he sighed shaking his head. “I’m not certain I am the best choice for a teacher. The Warden –”

“Will go easy on me. We’re involved; he won’t hurt me.”

Grimacing as if he were pained, “ _ I _ don’t want to hurt you.”

“Ah, see but there’s a difference between you and him. You know if I can’t keep up I’ll have to be left behind. Ae-” I caught myself saying his name instead of calling him by his title, “the Warden won’t want to leave me behind now. The idea that maybe I just involved myself with him to stay on with the group might worm its ugly way into his head. I won’t stand for that. Alistair, it’s either you or Sten. I’m not sneaky enough to be a rogue, so Leliana can’t help me.” I gave him what I hoped would be a pointed, significant look. “Do you really think Sten would help me?”

He snorted, “He would have left you down in that crag to wait for the darkspawn.”

“Exactly. So, Alistair, ol’ buddy, ol’ pal,” I gave him my best puppy dog impression complete with sound effects and pouting. “Are you going to help a girl out?”

“That’s not fair,” he cried closing his eyes and holding up his hands to fend off the pitiful look I wore, “not fair.”

I stuck my tongue out at him, “Come on, besides, who else is going to cook?”

His skin tinged pink, “My cooking is fine.”

“ _ Sure _ it is.”

Alistair and I worked on my footwork, my stamina, and my blade work until I ached all over. The nearby pond caught beams of dawning sunlight, reflecting them back at the sandy beach we stood upon. For the first time in days the morning felt warmer though cool winds occasionally made their way toward us from across the pond. Alistair liked my idea of practicing on the sand; the terrain would offer more resistance.

In all Alistair was a good instructor, aside from the semi-permanent reddish color across his cheeks he wore when having to break our personal space bubbles to fix my stance. His nearly instant switch between capable templar and tongue tied post-adolescent  _ virgin _ made my head spin. Telling myself Alistair spent more time studying and training than he did chasing girls as a teenager just made everything funnier when he did stutter or become suddenly (painfully) awkward. 

I found myself fighting off giggling at him as he blushed to the roots of his hair. 

One hand on my stomach, the other on my left shoulder Alistair quickly fumbled through instructions on how to adjust my stance to work with a heavier blade. “It’s about compensation,” he said quickly, “and control.”

Laughing as he pulled away, “Al, I am not going to bite, I promise.”

His brow creased, “Sorry?”

Relaxing a bit I shrugged, “I know you’ve never…”  _ Licked a lamppost in winter.  _ Not the greatest analogy, but I have heard  **so ** much worse. I watched Grumpy Old Men and the sequel. Actually, I think I own the DVD’s but that’s beside the point. 

There was always the Irene Adler approach. Who didn’t respect a woman that could make Sherlock Holmes stumble over his words? “Had anyone,” I finished indelicately.

His mouth worked like a guppy, open, close, open close.

“And that’s cool, the ladies love a gentleman, but I don’t count. I’m a compatriot. A brother – don’t give me that look templar I know where you sleep – in arms, technically anyway, so chill okay?”

Alistair groaned, burying his face in his gloved hands, “Elyria.”

“What? Like it was a secret, please.” If we were the same height I would have thrown my arm around his shoulder and given him a bro-hug. We weren’t though, he was around 5’11”, maybe 6 foot even and I was still 5’5”. So I did the next best thing, I shoved him into the water.

To tell the truth I didn’t plan on hitting him hard enough to dunk him. I didn’t, I swear but apparently I hit him harder than I meant to and he wasn’t expecting it and…well yeah. In he went.

Alistair splashed down in the shallow water with a short holler. Mud splattered his armor and exposed skin. He took a second sitting there realizing what I’d just done to him. His face, speckled with mud, dripping wet and mildly shocked. Oh. My. God. I bent over on the shore laughing so loudly they heard me back at camp.

He stood up scowling at me, “It’s not funny.”

I nodded, tears in my eyes, “It is though.”

Water streamed from his armor as he trudged back onto the sandbank. “Is not.”

“ **Totally** is.” 

Alistair wiped his muddy face with one wet hand, “Think so?”

I shrieked when he grabbed me around the waist, hauling me up so my legs kicked at air when I tried to run. He walked us, me kicking at air and hitting his back to let me down, a few feet into the water again and promptly threw me into the water too. I screamed of course. Deeper than I expected I dunked under and bobbed back up. On the shore Alistair stood, guffawed clutching his abdomen, sides no doubt splitting from the hilarity.

Aedan with Jax in tow, Leliana and surprisingly Morrigan arrived on scene.

“What,” Aedan asked after I returned to shore looking much like a half drowned rat, “happened?”

I coughed pointedly not looking at him. Alistair managed a somewhat guilty visage. I snorted. Alistair’s guilty looked melted into a shit eating grin. We looked at each other. The two of us cracked up at the same time, sounding much like two very drunk teenagers.

“Explain this to me again,” Alistair said, brow furrowed, lips pressed in a thin line, “When you say chill you mean for someone to calm down, right?”

“Aye aye, templar-warden, sir,” I told him, jumping over a downed tree.

The smarmy bastard just lifted his leg and walked right over it.

I would have tried to hate him but we were turning out to be the best of buddies.

We, meaning Alistair and I – the two screw ups from the previous morning – were involuntarily stationed at the back of the group the following day. Logic dictated we were less likely to cause too much trouble where we were out of the way. Sound judgment, if a bit flawed. Putting your tank at the back of the party was not (at least in my book) a genuinely great idea. 

“But,” he added, “When you say cool you mean something is interesting or good?”

I nodded my assent.

He shook his head, “That makes absolutely no sense.”

I shrugged, “Don’t hate the player. Hate the game.”

About thirty, maybe forty feet ahead of us Aedan and Morrigan were talking at the front of the party. I could think of what they might have chatting about. Morrigan probably reiterating that she did not like me, or Alistair, or the two of us cavorting together like bosom buddies. She might have been trying to wheedle Aedan away from me and into her bed. Or, and from their body language I was betting on this one, she was talking to him about her mother’s Gimoire and looking for it in the tower. Aedan listened to her without looking at her. Instead he looked around keeping a weather eye on our surroundings.

Early in the day Aedan lead us off road when a passerby we traded with for seasoning salts mentioned soldiers on the road. The last thing we needed was Loghain’s or Howe’s soldiers getting a hold of us before Aedan and Alistair could reach their destination. So far the terrain hadn’t been too bad; I was used to hiking with Cody though I hadn’t done it in a while. 

My kingdom for the MTA!

Ten feet from us Leliana talked to Jax, telling him about her record of our travels and her descriptions of the Mabari. Brave, playful, and sometimes gluttonous which he took argument with of course. After all, he was a growing dog.

Growing sideways.

This early in the game there weren’t very many traps along the road, I remembered that much. Later on there would be bandits, spiders – so not looking forward to those – and more than enough darkspawn for a lifetime. Now though we trekked through the woods with the biggest obstacles being boredom and dehydration.

I sipped from my water.

“Your family,” Alistair said while we walked, “they must miss you.”

The irony was that they probably didn’t know I was gone, or if they did they didn’t care. I shook my head, “More likely my friends miss me. Emma’s probably freaking out,” I caught his confused expression. “To freak out means being very upset or going crazy over something, which in this case is me being missing. Anyway, she’s my roommate at school. My best friend.

“There’s Brandon – we call him Lee, it’s his middle name – and Kerry. We’ve all been friends since the first year of school.” We were starting to go uphill now. I could feel the slow burn in my calves and thighs. “They would miss me more than my family would. They don’t like me very much.”

Alistair helped me up over a large rock jutting out of the side of the hill, “You’re lucky to have family though.”

Snorting, “My parents don’t care about me much. I was the ‘oops’ baby. My sister is a viper; she takes verbal potshots at me whenever I’m home. My brother, god how do I describe the golden boy? He’s,” I thought for a minute as we hiked upward, my boots keeping me fairly steady on the upward slope, “when he deigns to speak to me he’s dismissive, rude even. Either I do what he wants or he’ll cause me trouble. Does that make sense?”

Ruefully the templar laughed under his breath, “It does.”

“Right, sorry, I forgot. Lady Isolde.” Except he hadn’t told anyone that and I just stuck my foot into my mouth. 

Alistair paused long enough to look at me, really look at me as if for the first time.

My turn to flush red and awkwardly mutter apologies.

He caught up after a moment or two, his voice low to keep the others from overhearing. “You do know a lot more about everything than you let on.” Not a question, a statement of fact though he didn’t sound upset by it. Curious maybe, but not upset in the slightest.

I chewed my lower lip briefly, mulling over how much I could say versus how much I should say. Finally I told him in a low, low whisper, “I know technically we should all be calling you, your highness.”

Alistair groaned loudly, shielding his eyes with one hand, head bowing, shoulders slumping, showing all of the classic signs of well, humiliation. “Oh maker,  **no** .”

“What?” I whispered, “It isn’t like I’m going to tell anyone. Don’t worry about that just yet. You are going to have to come up with a good way to tell the rest of  _ them _ before we get to Redcliff.”

“I was hoping,” he muttered his feet falling a bit harder on the ground than necessary, “not to have to tell anyone at all.”

Giving him a consoling pat on the back, “Yeah, because  _ that _ will work.”

He gave me a pointed look, “Really?”

“No,” I told him smacking him upside the head, a feat really considering our height difference, “that was sarcasm doofus.”

The call to stop for a rest came around midday once we reached the top of the very tall hill. We each ate a handful of wild berries I recognized as blueberries and hard tack with a slice of cheese. Alistair sat down with me, and after a few moments Leliana joined us too. The two of them got to talking about what she’d written down thus far about our travels.

Only half listening I went into my pack and drew out the markers for the tallies on my arm. When I washed I made certain not to wipe them away. It took some maneuvering, loosening my armor and pushing up the sleeve. My thumb rubbed over the tally marks before I drew the new one. God, I’d been here so many days already. Days and days and days I spent here.

Not a glimpse of home beyond my dreams or what I carried with me. Maybe I would get home, maybe I never would. Dorothy Gale, Alice Liddel and Hank Morgan had  **nothing** on me.

Over the summer I read “The Thinking Woman’s Guide to Real Magic” and I liked it. In some ways, when I thought about it, I was closer to Nora than I was to any other ingénue that somehow managed to end up in a world not their own. I didn’t fall through a rabbit hole or get sucked up into a tornado. No head injuries. I didn’t take the blue pill. Much like Nora I was living my life and ended up elsewhere without intention. 

“Elyria,” Leliana said my name in a tone that implied she must have called my name a half dozen times before I answered.

I looked at her, absently rubbing the marks I’d made on my arm. “Did you need something?”

She glanced to Alistair who rubbed the back of his neck and looked away.

I dropped the sleeve of my shirt and set my armor right again. “Time moves in one direction, memory in another,” William Gibson, I can’t even say why I remembered the quote.

Rumors of darkspawn incursions reached us via Bohdan. As well as the rumors out of Denerim that Loghain suspected both Aedan and Alistair were not only alive, but recruiting. Our traveling merchant’s trick of disappearing when we broke camp and reappearing minutes after we’d set up again was truly remarkable. If I hadn’t already known what Bohdan and Sandal did during the day, I would have said they were following us at a safe distance.

“There is trouble at the Circle,” Aedan told us as a group while we packed the morning before we reached the tower. “Bohdan said something about the Templars closing the tower off.”

Alistair, who had been tying the leather straps on his bedroll stood up. The Templar training in him took over as he said, “Did he say what kind of trouble?”

“Blood mages,” I said.

“You knew,” Aedan sounded almost upset.

Alistair looked down, away from me no doubt thinking my honesty with him meant I wouldn’t continue to keep secrets. Wrong.

Rolling my shoulders I kept my eyes down as I worked on compressing my own bedroll and tent. Bohdan managed to obtain one of those magical packs that everyone around here has and gave it to me for befriending Sandal. Not only did it hold my tent, bedroll and cooking supplies, it held everything else I owned in the world. What did it weigh? Infinitely less than the guilt I’d been toting around for having to keep my mouth shut.

“Look I can’t tell you everything alright? This is your story, not mine.” I hefted my pack onto my shoulder, refusing to look any of them in the eye. A horrible weight shifted itself onto my chest. Guiltily, “We need to reach the Circle by nightfall.”

“Are you certain of that, Traveler?” Morrigan’s voice felt like nails driving into the pit of vipers coiled in my stomach.

Her – despite her hard glares and her never ending supply of snarky comments toward me – I could look at without feeling like crap. She had almost as many secrets as I did and somehow managed to keep them to herself. I met those golden orbs with a wry twist to my lips, “Yes, Morrigan. I am absolutely sure.”

Later, as we walked I became increasingly aware several people, save Sten and the dog were  _ not _ pleased with me. Morrigan, her indifferent coldness I was used to. Thwarting her plan to get Aedan into her tent genuinely pissed her off. Sten, I knew he didn’t trust me but I think he began to respect me a little after I pulled myself out of that crag in the ground. The dog happily loped along side me the only one of us just fine with me keeping my secrets to myself. I rubbed behind Jax’s ears periodically, and he was more than happy to get the scratches.

As if adding insult to injury, my iPod’s battery began its inevitable death march. In honor of its death (seeing as I probably wouldn’t be cognizant enough when I actually returned home to charge it) I played my somber mix. Some Florence and the Machine interspersed with Aerosmith, Three Doors Down, a little classic rock thrown in with the topper on the cake; Song of the Lonely Mountain. Warning beeps started during Glee’s version of She’s Not There and bled right through to My Chemical Romance’s The Black Parade. Well if these were possibly the last songs I was ever going to hear, my iPod would go out with a good god damn bang. To hell with it all. 

I pulled up Kansas’ Carry on My Wayward Son. The opening theme song for the season finale to Supernatural felt kind of fitting in a way. By far the most played song on my iPod, possibly the most played song in my music library. Some miracle, call it strength of will or deep belief, allowed the song to loop around once more, cutting off just after the last guitar died out.

Sniffing, my eyes stinging a little with saline, I removed the buds from each ear slowly. The cord I wound around the pink-purple body of the dead iPod until there wasn’t any wire left. Carefully I put into my pack, tucking it away with a mental promise to get us home to charge it up and bring it back to life.

In game the Warden and her/his entourage first arrive at Lake Calenhad at night. At least in my game that was always the way it was. Night time. Though, like Lothering it was bigger than what the game could portray. The turned over boat next to which one could activate mabari dominance was approximately a quarter mile away from the dock. The Spoiled Princess tavern, at which Felsi and Oghren’s possible offspring existed, stood just a little further than the boat. I half expected to see the mage from the mage’s collective. I wracked my brain trying to remember if there were Black Stone Irregular quests inside the tavern.

Hey, spare money for Aedan meant spare money for all of us.

Sten stopped at the top of the hill leading down to the docks. He cast his gaze out toward a distant spot on the horizon, probably thinking about his lost sword and thus his lost soul. For all the emotion the big Qunari could express, he looked reverent and just the slightest bit sad.

“Ask Sten about why he locked himself in the cage back in Lothering,” I said to Aedan in a low tone.

The warden stopped in his tracks, glaring at me with dark blue eyes, “You’ve decided to share your knowledge with me now?”

Sarcasm, seriously?

“Aedan, do you want Sten’s loyalty or not?”

“Does it matter?”

Of course it did! Stupid, stubborn man. I groaned under my breath, “Fine you want a glimpse of the future, here it is. In a few years a small portion of the Qun will shipwreck on the shores of Kirkwall. They will be a source of contention there. The Qunari sent Sten here to answer to his leader what the Blight is. He can’t go back to answer unless you help him.” Technically I never noticed during my playthroughs whether one actually depended to the other, but then I’d only played off two game loads. In both I had Sten as a loyal member of my party. 

My Amell mage and my Lady Aeducan. Lord if only I wound up in her game. She was a big old softie aside from when we slaughtered her back stabbing brother after giving Harrowmont the crown. What? Don’t judge me, she was my first toon with DA and backstabbing pisses me off.

Aedan’s mouth formed a thin, firm line. “You’re going to have to give me more to go on than that Elyria.”

Oh for the love of…I made a frustrated sound at the back of my throat, “Fine. I’ll do it.”

His hand on my shoulder stopped me, “No, I’ll do it, but not because you told me to. I’ll do this, if you agree to tell me more about what you know.”

My mouth opened to reject that idea, it did. “I’ll tell you what I can tell you. I won’t promise more than that Aedan,” I told him once my wits came back to me, “please don’t ask me to do more than that. Things could go horribly wrong if I give you too much information beforehand.”

His head bobbed, “Agreed then. Once we’ve completed our business in the Circle, I’ll speak with Sten.” Aedan held his hand out to me, his long fingers folding over mine. He drew my hand against his chest, forcing me to take a step in toward him. Aedan tucked a lock of hair that managed to fall loose behind my ear. “And please let’s not fight, this, us, it’s too new for us to fight.”

He was right. Our relationship was too new for petty arguments.


	7. Part One, Chapter Seven

Chapter 7:

Those great big wood and metal doors slammed home behind us, reminding everyone that we were now technically on our own. Aedan assured Greagoir that we wouldn’t come back until we had the First Enchanter with us. This meant getting to the top of the tower in as few pieces as possible. 

Alistair posed a thought before we headed through the door leading to the rest of the tower. He suggested I stay behind, seeing as we had no idea what magic would do to me as an outsider to this world. Aedan nixed the idea. 

Insert the comedic gulp sound here.

The bodies of Templars were strewn across the floor, all of which we checked for a pulse. Having found all of them dead and gone, we moved on to the hallway. My second play through was a mage, Amell. I remade her toon a couple of times with different mods before I liked the way she looked. Eventually she fell in love with Alistair, made him king and gave her life for the ultimate sacrifice. The point to that story was that I knew my way around the Circle well enough even though the real floor plan deviated somewhat from the game floor plan.

Aedan’s hand hadn’t even touched the first door before it burst open with two orangey-yellow rage demons bearing down on us. Morrigan managed to freeze one in place, which Sten and Aedan took care of in record time. The other went straight for Alistair, and since I stood near him, me.

Cutting a rage demon is like cutting semi-solid fire, my blade warmed in my hands as I slashed through the shoulder area. I yanked it free as Alistair bashed it aside with his shield and stabbed it through the middle with his sword. One of Leliana’s arrows sunk in right between its eyes. The demon fizzled out like a dying fire, sinking into the stone floor, leaving behind the stink of rotten eggs.

“Well,” I said eyeing the space where the demon dissolved, “there is one thing Thedas has common with my world. Demonic presence still smells like sulfur.” Have I mentioned that I watch a lot of horror movies? Don’t judge me.

“There are demons in your world?” Alistair asked me as we walked on toward the next room, weapons loose but ready.

“Ask me that again when we’re not about to fight for our lives, okay Al?”

The corner of his mouth quirked upward. “Right, El.”

By the time we made it to Wynne and her ass-kicking spells of awesome, I felt pretty damn secure in my ability to defend myself. I solo killed a shade. Not pretty, but I did it and hell if that didn’t make me feel less terrified of being in the Circle with all of these demons, shades, and horrors running around loose. 

Unlike in game, Wynne did not look as composed and put together as she does when the player first meets her. Dying, defending herself, the apprentices and the younglings took an obvious toll. Grey wisps of hair fell around her face and the back of her neck, her brow wrinkled in concentration as she ended the rage demon’s existence with extreme prejudice. Not every day you get to see a fifty year old woman brought back to life and possessed by the spirit of faith kick some demonic ass.

“It’s you! No…come no further.” Wynne began the dialogue, “Grey Warden or no, I will strike you down where you stand.”

I could practically see the menu options hovering between her and Aedan as they spoke. There were words practically clawing at the back of my throat to get out and say something, insert a correction here, a little advice there. Closing my eyes I reminded myself of one thing, one very important thing. Keeping my mouth shut meant not royally screwing with the storyline.

While attempting to distract myself the kids caught my attention. They weren’t huddled together, but they congregated closely to their slightly older caretakers. Fear, sadness and worry hung like a heavy ominous cloud over their semi-circle. An idea struck me. Kids in this world couldn’t be much different from kids in my world.

After a moment of searching I found my Kindle turned it on and moved over toward them. “Hey,” I said to a brown haired girl with pigtails, “would you like to see something?”

She looked up at me with big, curious green eyes. “It’s not scary is it?”

Kneeling beside her, “Nah, it’s really great. I think your friends will like it too.” I pulled up my apps as a handful of them gathered around me. My guilty secret, not reality television, not celebrity gossip, no, no, it was something far worse. 

I played Bejeweled. 

The electronic, upbeat music played softly though it seemed to echo throughout the room. I cringed as did the kids; they backed away from the light and sound. Except for one, one of the boys, he was maybe four or five. He poked the screen. When it didn’t do anything to him, he took hold of one side and tilted it. The screen flipped. He giggled and flipped the screen again. Seeing that nothing bad happened the others came closer, watching with bated breath as I showed them how to destroy groups of jewels on the screen. One at a time I let them trace around watching each line or connection explode, much to their amusement.

“What kind of magic is it?” One of the slightly older girls asked me, her fingers twisting nervously.

Shaking my head, “It’s not magic.”

“It looks like magic,” one of the older mages said warily.

I stood up, facing her. Of course it would be the one that always seemed in a panic about her abilities, the hysterical mage. I’m not a fan of making mages tranquil, but there was a candidate perfect for the procedure. 

“To a primitive mind any sufficiently advanced technology would be indistinguishable from magic.” Thank you Lex Luthor for misquoting Clarke in the best – and sexiest in my opinion – possible way.

She must have realized I insulted her because her skin colored ruddy in a blush.

“Technology,” Aedan stood beside me, watching the kids play with the new toy, “I’m afraid to ask.”

“As with anything from my world, Warden,” in front of others I used his title, “there are things I can explain and things I can’t. When we’re out of the tower and not saving people from the monsters within,” get it, monsters within. Bad pun. I apologize for my existence. “I’ll attempt to explain this one.”

We left the kids with my Kindle. They needed it more than I did.

With Wynne in tow, the group of us headed onward and upward to the Senior Mage Quarters. One thing I never realized when playing the game, there were no windows. I wanted to look out onto Lake Calenhad. I know there are windows I’ve seen them in game. In the harrowing chamber that is.

A shudder went down my spine. The dwarves, the way they lived I understood that. They never saw the sun unless they went topside. The majority didn’t go topside because they never needed to. For them there was no sunlight to miss, so they didn’t.

Now I understood why Anders hated it here. As relaxed as this Circle’s rules and regulations were in comparison to the Circle in Kirkwall, the lack of a view outside the Circle punctuated the sentiment. Anders and his ability to get out of here made so much more sense now. And, I thought as I looked up at the uniform grey walls, was kind of impressive.

Anders. 

I stopped mid-step and flipped around toward Wynne.

“Where is Anders?”

My question seemed to startle her a bit. I could practically see her mental calculation of how I could possibly know the wayward escape artist. Her tone cautiously guarded when she answered me, “He was caught in the middle of a breakout attempt. The templars have placed him in the holding cells before trouble broke out.”

A bout of worry built up in my chest. On one hand, he could be perfectly safe entertaining himself with the odd magic trick or two. On the other hand though the man had a penchant for attracting danger and making stupid decisions, like letting himself bond with Justice. Then again, if the cells were where I thought they were he was probably in the clear. One of the blood mages would have had to get past Wynne and the apprentices to get down there in the first place.

“Who is Anders?” Aedan asked me as Wynne spoke with the Tranquil Owain.

“A future Grey Warden,” I told him trying to keep my voice lower than a whisper so that no one else heard, “but you’ll meet him soon enough.”

His brow furrowed, “If he’s going to be a warden, then that means…” his voice trailed off as he contemplated. The wheels moved on their own behind his blue eyes, the tumblers clicking into place. The corners of his mouth pulled up, his expression brightening. “We’re going to win,” he said slowly, like he didn’t believe it completely, like he was rolling the words around in his head because they just didn’t want to string together properly. “We’ll win,” he said in a sort of wonderment I usually reserved for kids under five, “won’t we?”

I mimed locking my lips and throwing away the key.

Before we ever reached the room where the tranquil mages were being corrupted, I could feel the force of the blood magic. My stomach roiled as if I swallowed rancid beef and the rotten stench of sulfur thickened the air, souring it. I gagged, coughing into my arm. Breathing through my mouth did little to help since every breath felt like it coated my tongue with the disgusting flavor. After a handful of minutes I realized it was just me. The lot of them, even the dog walked on as if it didn’t bother them. The smell grew stronger and stronger when we reached the door. I was practically choking on the air. It was like cow manure smeared into rotten eggs baking on a NYC street mid-August. When we reached the door a squeezing pressure started in on my lungs, my head and my ears popped like mad.

Aedan threw open the door and everyone attacked. There were arrows flying, spells zinging, and those superfluous little comments coming from everyone’s mouths. I could barely stand up straight. Breathing made me light headed and woozy, a lot like I’d been right before… Oh shit. No, not now. Not now. If I passed out now I could end up in the fade, or worse. No, no, no. This couldn’t happen now of all times, of all places. 

Dragging myself into the room, I waded into the fray and ushered the tranquil mages away from danger. It took everything I had to keep upright. Not a second after the last demon went down, I did too. I lay on the stone floor barely able to suck in breath. The air had cleared a little. I could feel the pressure of it ease off my brain case.

I blinked and I swore for a moment that Brandon Lee stood over me saying something. I could almost hear him, his words were fuzzy like a static radio. I blinked again, woozy as the world spun around me. An urgent feeling struck me so hard I felt it physically.

When I opened my eyes after what felt like hours of them being close it was Wynne kneeling over me her staff glowing as she worked on healing me. I sat up coughing so hard my throat burned. The hands holding released me so I could flip over and lose the entire contents of my stomach on the floor. My head pounded like I’d gone a couple of rounds with Tyson and every single muscle group in my body felt like it had been clenched for hours. When I finally managed to pull myself together, which was a few minutes in all honesty I didn’t like the looks I was receiving.

“How long was I out?” I asked no one in particular.

“You were dying.” Aedan told me, he came closer and touched my shoulder gently, “Elyria you weren’t breathing, and your heart stopped beating.”

Definitely could be considered worse than a grand mal seizure and hallucinations of a world that was technically not real outside someone’s gaming console, good to know. Breathing in and out a few times helped me clear out my lungs, but heaven help me my kingdom for a toothbrush and mouthwash. “I’m okay,” I assured him and everyone else, “how long was I gone though?”

“Your heart stopped for no more than a few seconds,” Wynne assured me in a motherly yet professional tone. “I was able to revive you with a spell.”

Not that much worse, not from perspective at least. Where I’m from, if someone hadn’t performed CPR on me, I really would have been dead and gone. Chilling with Cody for the rest of eternity didn’t bother me so much. The actually dying part did.

“I think,” I said slowly, rolling the idea around in my head, “I was about to fall back into my world and stalled it by refusing to go. That must have made my heart stop.” 

Aedan grabbed me and pulled me forward into his chest. He wrapped his arms around me, pressing his lips to my hair. “You scared me.”

Warm fuzzy feelings took over. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know fighting it could hurt me.”

“Next time,” Alistair said his voice rough in a telling sort of way, “Just go. Losing a friend to her own stubborn will to fight is just...”

“Stupid,” Leliana finished for him with a sniff, “incredibly stupid.”

Aww, I felt all squishy and warm inside. They cared. 

Sten, ever stoic, “You live. We should continue.”

Correction, most of them cared.

Morrigan remained silent.

Wynne insisted I use a health potion and an injury kit, both of which were – surprise – enchanted to work on application. The minor health potion, a bottle of reddish liquid approximately the size of my palm went down like strawberry-rhubarb flavored slugs. I made a bleh sound after drinking it. The injury kit was actually just a really long band of gauze tinted a light brown with medicine and magic. Wynne ripped it into smaller strips and applied one to my forehead, one to the back of my neck, one along my spine, across my hips, behind my knees and around my ankles. The last strip she put over a large gash I managed to acquire in the fray.

Just when I feared walking around like I should have been a bubble girl I felt like someone rinsed me off with a washcloth. A gigantic, fluffy, high thread count washcloth soaked with the most fabulous soap and highest quality water imaginable. I felt good. I felt better than I had in days. The injury kit pieces fell off of me, flopping uselessly to the ground where they dissolved all on their own.

Once everyone was certain I would remain alive and intact we ventured on. This time I walked at the back of the group, behind Wynne. I lost count of the doors we opened, the rooms we cleared out. I lost count of the monsters we killed, and thankfully I hadn’t been forced to run any of the people through. I had yet to take a human life, and I wanted to keep it that way. Realistically though, I knew eventually I might have to. I just truly did  **not** want to. The never ending number of monsters in our wake seemed daunting. Aedan opened another door and…

“Hey,” Emma nudged me with her elbow, “what’s up with the frown? You okay?”

Attempting to concentrate on my homework just wasn’t working. We always sojourned to the library for about an hour before dinner to get some homework done. Emma convinced me years ago to just suck it up and do the work early. Only the words seemed to jumble together, flipping themselves around and upside down. Rubbing my eyelids only seemed to make it worse. Strange symbols floated up from the page smacking me in the nose.

I sighed and closed the book, “Just overtired I guess. Not much sleep lately.”

“Well if you would stop practicing for fencing at five at the morning, you’d be more awake all day.”

Right, I had been doing that a lot lately. Waking up early to work with…wait who had been my practice partner? There was a blank spot where the name and face of my fencing partner should have been. Wracking my brain I tried to remember. Who had been getting up early with me to practice with me? Who? For the life of me I could not remember his name. Not even remotely. I knew it was a guy, someone I was friends with but the guys I knew were not in my fencing class. I could remember things about him. He was awkward and funny and he had a puppy dog demeanor when he wasn’t kicking my ass every morning. I called him Obi-Wan sometimes, didn’t I?

As I thought about my friends I realized none of them, not one of them fit the description. Who had I been practicing with? Who was my fencing partner? Why couldn’t I recall his name? Or his face?

“Ems,” did my voice sound slow and sluggish, or was I imagining it? “Who have I been working with?”

She rolled her shoulders nonchalantly, flipping a page in her nursing text book. A full scale decapitation filled the page, with maggots, flies, beetles and roaches crawling all over the poor individual. My gag reflex triggered.

“You should get some sleep,” Emma told me in that same distant tone as she turned to another page, this one blessedly graphics free. “You’ll crash and burn and then how will you pass your finals?”

Ha, finals as if they mattered to me in Thedas. Wait. Thedas. I was still in Thedas, not New York. Pushing up the sleeves to my hoodie I found I still bore the marks of the days that passed in Ferelden. Getting my butt handed to me every morning by Alistair. Kissing Aedan in the moonlight. Leliana humming softly as we walked. Morrigan’s perpetual pout. Sten’s badass stand-there-and-be-intimidating act. Wynne’s soft hands gently pressing injury kit pieces to my skin.

The chair flipped as I jumped away from Emma and the other non-people in the room. They didn’t change though, not one of them. A lot of them stopped moving, stopped talking, the library filled with a ringing silence. They looked up at me with alien eyes. No shock, no curiosity, flat emotionless eyes like a great white sharks circling around their prey.

Fear sang through my veins. Where were my weapons? My sword, the backup dagger, where were they? As I turned looking for them the small number of demons, fade spirits, whatever you wanted to call them moved in unison all taking a handful of steps toward me. I froze stranded in the middle of the wide round table. They stopped a handful of feet from me, save Emma who stood just as she had before. Lovely a deadly game of Simon Says, only I’m not Simon and I can’t hear the cues.

Aedan chose that moment to come to the rescue. He ran through the doors of the library stopping only to take the scenery around him. Relief flooded through me when our eyes met. The demons were motionless as long as I didn’t move. I didn’t know if they were voice activated like possessed Furbies, or movement activated like those Halloween mats that scared the crap out of me as a kid.

Ah, screw it. “Aedan, honey, not that I’m not in need of a rescue, but don’t move.”

Emma’s laugh sounded flat and ominous as it came out of her mouth, “Ellie, don’t you want to stay here? Be at home with all the comforts you’re used to? I bought ice cream, your favorite. Birthday Cake. We can watch a Sherlock marathon later. That sounds fun doesn’t it?”

I rolled my eyes at her, “If you were even a decent imitation of Emma you would know, she isn’t into Benedict Cumberbatch.” A running jump landed me about five feet from Aedan.

He tossed me a sword and asked, “Who is Benedict Cumber-batch?”

“Can we talk about his royal hotness when we’re  _ not _ fighting for our lives,” I replied right before Emma, her face twisted with rage, attacked us with hagraven fingers. The nails sliced at my skin drawing thin but deep blood trails across the back of my hand. One swing to block her hand and another swing down sliced off most of her hand. She screamed at me an alien sound coming throat. One of her hands rose up to come at me again. I cut it off before she could slice. Swinging up I lodged the blade between her ribs and yanked with everything I had.

After Emma’s doppelganger fell everyone in the library attacked, all at the same time. Aedan and I were back to back fighting off people I vaguely remembered from my home world. A girl I used to pass everyday on my way in and out of the dorm threw herself at me wielding a computer keyboard as a weapon. One of the librarians chucked textbooks at us from a safe distance.

“This is ridiculous,” Aedan yelled as he cut his way through a boy from my Wednesday morning Mythology class who somehow managed to break a chair into pieces and was stabbing the nailed end at Aedan. The boy’s body flopped to the floor, dissolving the way the demons did.

Sliding my blade home into a redhead, “It could have been worse. This could be the gym.” Imagining barbells and exercise equipment being thrown at us made me happy the Sloth demon hadn’t known enough to put us there.

Eventually we killed them all. Thankfully their bodies were gone or I might have had to deal with the psychological repercussions of having to murder people I sort of knew. “That,” I said as I leaned against one of the library stacks, “sucked a lot.”

Aedan watched me with something like pride in his eyes, “I knew you would be too smart to fall for it.”

Winking at him I said, “That’s because you’re head over heels for me.” 

The world started to fog over, specifically him. I started forward only to find my feet stuck in place. When the world cleared there we all were, standing in front of the Sloth demon, still stuck in the fade. Only now we were at the boss fight. Oh. Joy.

The demon went through the usual lines of putting us back, making us happier this time to keep us docile. The usual bad guy shtick only with slightly more ominously evil overtones and the general sense of impending doom to go with it.

Wynne gave her speech about us always finding one another. 

Bad guy went back to the monologue. Why do they always monologue? Seriously, almost every bad guy in almost every movie, book, comic, video game and what not, they monologue their  **entire** plan right before having their asses handed to them on a silver platter. It’s as if they know they have to seal their fate so they annoy the hero/protagonist(s) into ending their miserable existence in order to stop the mind numbing tedium.

“Oi,” I snapped, interrupting his one sided gabfest, “Emperor Palpatine, much as I’m sure we would all  _ love _ to hear your ‘come to the dark side’ speech, can we get on with it? We’ve got innocent people to save and more demons to vanquish. And I think I speak for all of us when I say we really,  **really** just want to beat the fricken tar out of you.”

Wynne, Leliana and Morrigan shot me identical, ‘why you so crazy’ looks.

Sten stood like the rock he was, his borrowed sword in hand. 

Alistair, instead of outing his normal line, busted out laughing. “What she said.”

Aedan rolled one shoulder, winked at me, and attacked.

The lot of us woke up on the cold hard ground, groaning as if we were up partying like it was nineteen ninety nine all night. All of the feeling good I had when Wynne patched me up earlier fled leaving me like a chewed up wad of bubble gum stuck under a display table at Macy's. A leather gloved hand appeared in front of me.

Aedan pulled me up, blue eyes alight with amusement, “When we are safely out of here, you have a lot of explaining to do.”

An idea struck me, I snorted, “Say that last part with an Antivan accent and add the name Lucy right before it.”

His brow creased as he took the Litany of Andrala from Wynne. “What? Why?”

“Please, I need a laugh.”

Aedan sighed, “Maybe later, as you said, we have people to save and demons to vanquish.”

I stuck my tongue out at him, “Spoil sport.”

Onward we went.

The dragonlings made their nest in a pile of half-rotten bodies and rags. Flies soared around them as they tore at bloated, rotting human flesh. The dragonlings snapped at us with razor sharp teeth, squawking like rabid seagulls and growling like oversized bobcats. Talons the size of small daggers sliced through the air as they swiped at us. I was more than happy to skewer one of the foul dragon offspring until it stopped twitching. So did not want to fight a real dragon.

Finally we reached poor Cullen stuck in his cage of light. Of course he shouted about not falling for this trick again and dropped to his knees to pray. Wynne and Aedan again began the dialogue. Leliana let us know she could tell that he’d been tortured which of course earned her the equivalent of a slap to the hand.

I, on the other hand, dropped to a crouch in front of him. He looked so pitiful. Mournfully pathetic. He prayed to his maker to come down from the heavens and save him from the horrors inflicted upon him.

“We’re not demons.” I told him, “Now stand up and act like you have a back bone or so help me I will find a way in there and once I do, you can bet I will kick the snot out of you.” 

Cullen looked at me, honestly looked at me with his honey-brown eyes and let go of a breath I bet he’d been holding a while. He blinked a dawning realization hitting him. “You…” his voice shook, cautious and tired and scared, “did Greagoir send you?”

As if on cue, which I suppose he was, Aedan stepped in and took over. Cullen went through the evil possessed mages and whatnot.

I tuned it out.

Unlike before I couldn’t feel the pressure of the blood magic upstairs until I set foot on the stairs. The demonic stink of sulfur wasn’t any weaker, nor was it stronger. Holding one hand about a foot from the door I could feel the pressure practically threatening me through the heavy wood separating us. Pressing my hand closer I could feel the force vibrate up my arm, gripping at me and squeezing. Not as tightly as before but then I lacked proximity right now. I could only imagine how bad it would get when we actually entered the harrowing chamber.

“Traveler,” Morrigan’s voice drew my attention.

So not in the mood for her attitude, “What?”

The bitch zapped me.

Not pleasant.

I dropped like a bag of bricks. When I came round again I found Aedan had one hand on Morrigan’s wrist, restraining her from casting with her staff. With a scowl he let go of her ordering Alistair and Sten to train their weapons on her. The both did so with great pleasure.

Aedan knelt down in front of me, “Are you alright?”

Wordlessly I nodded. I let him help me into standing. “I feel crap-tastic, but besides that, I’m pretty sure I’ll live.”

Unexpectedly he drew me against his chest, pressing his lips against my hair. “I thought you were gone,” he murmured. “I saw Morrigan hit you and…”

Pushing up on my toes I pressed a kiss to his lips, “Worry about her later. We’ve got mages to save and a First Enchanter to rescue.”

The corners of his mouth inched upward, “We?”

“Yes we.”

No costume change needed, thank you great universe and whatever powers that be for keeping me from embarrassing myself. Beyond the door there was only a narrow case of stairs. No opening to the Harrowing Chamber. We, with Morrigan safely packed into the center of the group, followed the staircase up and up for a handful of minutes. Finally we came to another heavy wooden door.

It stood open, allowing us to hear the cries and ragged breathing of those in the Harrowing room. Uldred’s voice rose over it all, a double echo of a voice I remembered just barely. When playing in game his voice sounds human, normal, but right then it sounded much like those horror movie voices. The ones featured in things like The Rite and The Evil Dead, hell even the Exorcist. Only this was real and so much more  _ chilling _ .

A bone deep shudder went down my spine. Demons were fine and dandy plot devices but holy Mary, not in real life where possession turned you into a monster. Taking a quiet, deep breath in I reminded myself you had to agree to let the monster into yourself. While the notion helped a little, watching Aedan creep stealthily up the stone stairs to the Harrowing chamber reminded me of the misquoted line from an old poem. 

“‘Come in, come in,’ said the Spider to the fly.”

Leliana went second, her feet silent on the stone. Alistair after moving ever so slowly to diminish the sound of his plate armored feet. Morrigan followed them up, quiet as a church mouse on Sunday. I was next praying to any higher power listening to let me be just as quiet as they were. Except it didn’t matter, because by the time I reached the third stone step, Aedan had already engaged Uldred in dialogue.

By the time Sten and Wynne arrived at the top step with us, I was gagging on the stink of rotten eggs and sour blood magic. Aedan went back and forth with the demon inside Uldred. 

Wynne said her usual line, “You’re mad! There’s nothing glorious about what you’ve become Uldred.”

The demon inside the mage meat sack gave a double toned laugh, it echoed from inside the body. “Uldred? He is gone. I am Uldred and yet not Uldred. I am more than he was.”

Yes, about three feet more and 150 to 200 pounds more. Big, reddish brown with more eyes. Yep, absolutely more. I’m sure Uldred didn’t smell as rank as this guy did either.

Around the room the other demons swayed slowly watching us with alien eyes. The mages on the ground cast us wary, weary glances. Did we mean salvation or did we mean to put them through more horror?

The first enchanter spoke, beseeching Wynne, Aedan and the rest of us to stop the force inside Uldred before it could raise a demonic army.

Wynne reminded Aedan of the litany. Quickly he took it from her and turned toward me. “Go,” he told me handing me the litany, “keep chanting it until this is done.”

Oh. Shit. I grabbed the fragile looking scroll just as Uldred transformed. Oh my god. I knew he would be horrible to look upon, frightening. The stuff of nightmares but this, this I wasn’t expecting. The creature inside Uldred stood nearly twelve feet tall, its body red-brown shiny with blood, dripping with gore and other bodily fluids. It roared at the room, the stone walls, and the floors all trembling in its wake. The stink of sulfur intensified to the point where everyone began to cough from it. My eyes watered, it became even harder to breathe. 

I broke away from the fray, slashing at any demon coming near. There weren’t many, no more than the five that were in the room to begin with but they seemed to move quickly, making it feel like there were more of them. A bumpy, misshapen, grotesque hand reached for me. Stabbing it with my dagger I went around and past it toward the mages on the ground.

A pulsing glow came from Uldred. 

The litany.

I wouldn’t have called the words on the page English necessarily, but they were readable and I read them. My tongue tripped over words I barely understood. It felt like reading a paper written by an astrophysicist that had gone on a speed/coke bender for twenty four hours previous to writing the paper. The words were small, cramped and written in haste. When I reached the bottom of the page I returned to the top and kept reading.

It felt like the battle, the clanging sound of weapons, my friend shouting, the roar and gurgle of demons, the sounds the mages on the floor made lasted forever and a day. Really it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes. Alistair received the final kill, slamming his blade deeply into the creature that used to be Uldred and yanking it out again only to repeat the action. The monster lay on the ground staring lifelessly up at the vaulted circular ceiling of the chamber.

The first enchanter pushed himself up from the ground uttering, “Maker, I’m too old for this.”

Wynne was at his side a moment later helping him stay steady, “Irving, are you alright?”

“I’ve,” he leaned heavily on her, “been better but I am thankful to be alive. I suppose that is your doing, isn’t it Wynne?”

Dialogue options, I’m not joking, I’m fairly certain I could see the transparent window pop up with a half dozen things for Aedan to say. Which he did in spectacular fashion. 

The rest of us helped the handful of mages that survived Uldred’s insanity/possession up in order to get them down stairs. Irving said the templars were waiting. Greagoir needed to be informed. 

The mage that leaned on me was named Timothy, he couldn’t have been more than twenty and every other breath he told me I was the most beautiful creature in the entire world. He proposed marriage twice.

Affording him a patient smile, “Thank you Tim, but I’m afraid I’m already in a relationship.”

Timothy blinked at me blearily through the pain in his eyes, “Oh. The templar?”

What? I looked over at Alistair who was helping another mage, a blonde fellow with deep green robes and a bloody head wound. “Ah, no.” I nodded toward Aedan with his arm wrapped around Irving for support, “Him.”

Tim looked down at me, he had at least four or five inches on me, “You’re joking.”

“Nope.”

It took more than twenty minutes for us – including the mages – to get back to the bottom floor of the tower. I was in agreement with Irving, whoever said the mages should be housed in a tower must have been drinking a lot of sake – I made that mistake once and found myself standing in the bathrooms at MOMA with only a poncho and men’s boxers on – when they designed the tower.  _ Hell _ , I thought to myself,  _ at least they hadn’t designed Hogwarts _ . I could only imagine how crappy that might have been.

I handed off Tim to one of the other mages after we reached the room where Wynne had holed up with the kids. The children were doing their best at draining my Kindle of its battery life. 

One of them realized I returned. He held it out to me with the biggest grin, “Thank you miss.”

I had about twenty minutes, maybe a half hour left in it before it died. I put it back into my bag. Looking toward the back of the room reminded me of Anders possibly sitting in the cells downstairs, bored out of his mind doing half assed party tricks. Only…I jogged the fifteen feet between where I stood and the door. The door had looked wrong from back there, up close I knew why. It was slightly askew. No one would have noticed in a passing glance but on closer inspection one found the locked door was open. Pulling my sword from its sheath, I used my foot to prop it open for me to see in. A heavy feeling in the air told me I wasn’t alone.

Anders.

“What is wrong?” Leliana asked from somewhere behind and to the left of me.

I shook my head, calling back, “Aedan. I’m borrowing Leliana for a bit.”

“You are?” The red haired rogue asked playfully, “I do not know if the warden will approve.”

Rolling my eyes, “You know, for all your innocence you really are just a dirty pervert at the core.”

“I would not say perverted,” Leliana teased, “more that I am opportunistic perhaps.”

We trotted down the hallway, my memory guiding us. Where my memory failed to fill in the gaps she and I found disturbed spider webs and corpses of spiders. Someone had absolutely been down here. A sinking feeling began in my guts, rising up into my stomach and throat, bringing me bitter bile which I spat into a corner. Please, please let Anders be okay.

He may be stupid and crazy and pig headed. He might be a murder eventually but right now he was still just a mage in need of help. When I began to think I’d gotten us lost, Leliana placed her hand on my shoulder to stop me. She stood stock still, finger pressed to her lips. We listened. At first I didn’t hear it, but only because the sound was muffled by the many hallways in the labyrinthine underground structure. The sound of someone using magic followed by the faintest call for help, and cursing the likes of which might even make Isabella flush bright red.

The rogue and I broke into a run rounding corners, heading toward the fight. A large, heavy wooden, locked door stood in our way. Leliana, ever useful and brilliant, dropped to her knees lock picks in hand. Her fingers moved nimbly, quickly ticking over the tumblers until the door clicked open. She practically pulled it off its hinges to get inside.

Anders stood at the far wall of his cage, blasting the demon in front of him with whatever magic he could call up. He looked worn, tired and frustrated. He bled from a shoulder wound that trickled blood down the side of his robes, staining them deep crimson.

Leliana fired one; two, three shots at the demon to draw its attention away from the mage. It roared, angry from being disturbed. The damn thing charged us. Leliana backed off firing at it and somehow missing this time. To hell with that. I got in its way and used both hands, both blades, driving them into the thing’s chest. At least, I meant to drive it into its chest. The short sword somehow found its way into the demon’s neck, the dagger slid sickeningly into its ribs.

The sloth-like demon pawed me, blackish-red blood that stank like rotten eggs spurting from its wounds. An arrow lodged into the thing’s right eye. It dropped like a brick taking my blades with it. I had to yank them free.

In his cage Anders had fallen back against the wall, breathing heavily, eyes rolled up into his head. “Idiot,” I muttered, “you used up all your magic.” The cell door didn’t give when I pulled on it. Leliana obligingly opened it for me.

Crouching in front of Anders I shook him gently, “Anders.”

He barely responded.

Perturbed I pinched his cheek, “You hard headed idiot, wake up.”

That did it. He came back to himself, shouting, jumping and then realizing he was safe. Anders breathed out the stinky halitosis breath of someone who never brushed their teeth. He took in first my appearance then Leliana’s. Then he looked at me again, uncertainty mixing in with hope.

“Who-” he paused, probably rethinking whatever he was going to ask. His mouth opened again uttering a soft, “Thank you.”

I ruffled his messy blonde head of hair, relieved that he was okay. “You’re welcome.”


	8. Part One, Chapter Eight

Chapter 8: 

“He,” Aedan began skeptically, watching a mostly out of it Anders being handed off to one of the medic-mages, “is going to be a grey warden?”

Giving him a sharp, reproachful glance, “Like you’re in any position to refuse the help you’re getting or from whom, Warden.”

He sighed deeply, scrubbing one hand over his face, shaking his head in the smallest of gestures. “When you’re right, you’re right. Have I mentioned how you always seem to be right?”

“A few times.”

While Leliana and I had been rescuing Anders’ from the basement, Aedan had been upstairs hashing out the Mage’s end of the treaty with Irving and Greagoir. Thankfully he sided with the mages, not the templars. He sold off the items we’d ‘acquired’ up in the tower and off we went again on the quest to save Ferelden.

Wynne, now part of our growing troupe, left the tower with us in good spirits.

While Aedan and Sten accosted the beggar who bought the old Qunari camp site from Farin, I dropped behind to talk to Wynne. To me, someone used to living in a world where people tended to live well into their nineties, she seemed young. Older than me of course, with the worldly experience that brings crows feet around her eyes, and put both laughter and frown lines around her mouth. Her forehead bore signs of continuous deep concentration. To me, she was lovely, not so much grandmotherly but more motherly in appearance. 

In a moment of deep seated remorse I realized I missed my own grandmother and would have given anything for one of her warm vanilla scented hugs. Blinking back the wetness of tears I idled beside her trying to come up with the best way to say something. Anything.

“You wish to ask me something child?” She sounded so sweet, and grandmother like I almost burst into tears right there.

“How do you feel?” I asked hoping to convey my genuine concern. After all, the poor woman  _ died _ a couple of hours ago and was only being maintained by the spirit within.

Wynne smiled at me, her teeth in much better care than some of those I saw in the tower. “I am not so young as I once was, but I am well enough my dear. Thank you.”

God was she a trooper. “I’m Elyria,” I held out my hand for a shake which she obliged me with. “They either call me Elyria, Ellie, El or in Morrigan’s case ‘Traveler.’”

“Traveler,” Wynne mulled it over, “no, I think Elyria suits you. It’s a lovely name; I’ve never heard the like.”

“Most people haven’t, it’s a play on words.” Get it, a  **play** on words. No, no they wouldn’t get it, I reminded myself silently, because William Shakespeare never existed here. “Where I’m from,” notice the not so subtle hint that I was not from here, “there’s a play called Twelfth Night. It’s about a brother and sister who look so much a like they can pass for one another. My parents met at a showing of the play, and they thought it would be romantic to name their kids after the characters. My brother is Sebastian and my sister is Viola. My parents didn’t expect to have another baby, but they had me. So, in keeping with the theme, they named me after the place where the play is set.”

Spelled differently of course. They could not make life simple, my parents. Two genius brain surgeons without a single ounce of common sense or basic reasoning skills to share between them. How I grew up street smart I will never comprehend.

Though, it could have been worse. I could have been named Cesaria.

Imagine trying to get through childhood with that name and two doctors for parents.

By the time we made our way into the Spoiled Princess, dawn was creeping over the horizon. We were all too tired to trek on, and camping was pointless with an inn/tavern in such a convenient place. I looked forward to sleeping in an actual bed for once, even if the mattress was probably made from straw and rough linen. We bunked up, all save Morrigan who sniffed and pointedly stated she would not stay in such a pig sty.

Aedan caught my hand, tugging me away from the group. He waited while they figured out who would bunk with whom. His fingers laced with mine, “Stay with me for the day.”

My heartbeat thumped out a drumbeat that sounded like galloping horses, “Aedan, I’m-”

He kissed me, wrapping his arms around me, lifting me up against his chest so my feet left the ground. I wrapped my arms around his neck, one leg around his hips and said the hell with anyone watching. I dug my fingers into his hair while his hands gripped my waist. He made me breathless, leaving me sighing giddy and happy against his mouth.

“You were saying?” Aedan asked with one eyebrow up, his lips curled into a knowing, very male ‘I’m going to get some’ smirk.

I would have hit him if I had half a mind to think beyond getting him into a bed. “Devious man,” I murmured before kissing him again.

That left Sten with Alistair, who was  **not** happy about it. Wynne would bunk with Leliana; their sleep situation didn’t bother them much. Morrigan presumably put up her tent elsewhere and enjoyed some solitary time.

I went up to the room first while Aedan arranged getting a couple of buckets of hot water for the room. He knew my need to bathe, and bathe regularly, would supercede any of his attempts to get me into bed. Divesting myself of armor never felt so good. I folded everything up as well as possible and put everything into my magical pack of awesome that carried pretty much everything. Hermione couldn’t have done a better job with it, seriously.

Felsei of all people was the one to bring up the water buckets. She looked almost the way she did on screen, except more tired. I tipped her a couple of silver, which made her look at me as if I lost my mind.

“I can’t take this,” she said attempting to hand back the money.

I just shook my head, ushering her out of the room. Too many questions to answer and they would just lead to more questions. I’d already be giving enough of my secrets away to Aedan later, because I promised to. He wanted answers and I said I’d give him what I could.

The bucket I used wasn’t much but it was steaming and god the hot water felt good on my muscles. I’d have to use it later to wash myself again, presumably post sexy time, so best not to use it all up. Nervously I changed out of my tank top, leather leggings to stand in just my bra in panties. Would he think they were too skimpy? I pulled on my t-shirt and tugged off my bra. The girls were free, but covered and the t-shirt fell down around my hips so my undies just barely showed. Good enough.

Aedan came to the room a few minutes later. He seem to be as tired as I felt. He didn’t give me an appraising once over or a long heated look. Aedan walked over to me, pulled me in close, one of his hands on my hip, the other cupping my chin. He leaned down kissing me again, tenderly this time. I kissed him back, pushing up on my toes, my arms going around his waist.

Gently he tugged on my t-shirt, “Are you going to take this off?”

Gah. I shrugged, stepping back, eyeing his armor. “Are you going to bathe first?”

He pressed a hand to his heart in mock pain, “She wounds me.”

Taking that step forward again I pushed up to kiss him, “Come on warden, what’s a girl have to do to get you into bed?”

He groaned, a lustful sound and shucked his leather armor fast. Jesus Christ and all the Saints. I mean, I knew he was well muscled. I did, I’d seen him in moonlight remember? It was like looking at Chris Hemsworth ala Thor, and adding in a the litheness, lankiness of Tom Hiddleston…I just… Words failed me. Words still fail me. There weren’t any. Holy Mary mother of  ** _god_ ** , what had I done right to deserve him? He was gorgeous and perfect and so incredibly, unbelievably sexy I stood there in absolute  _ shock _ .

Which he apparently found hilarious. He chuckled, kissing me soundly again to pull me back to reality. Aedan handed me the soap and a wet cloth.

I pulled myself together long enough to get the gist of things. Wash each other? Hell effing yes. Fluffy lord, baby Jesus, holy mother Mary, flying spaghetti monster, god, goddess, Andraste and the Maker,  **yes please** .

Afternoon invariably came and with it, the orders to march on. Aedan and I were woken by Alistair tentatively asking from the hallway if we were going to be ready to go soon. It was late in the day, maybe three or four in the afternoon. The sun had yet to set. The days were getting longer meaning spring would be coming to Thedas in the next few weeks.

Not surprisingly they didn’t have a groundhog pop out of his nest in the ground to inform people of the weather. There wasn’t any ominous and depressing prediction of six more weeks of winter versus a soon to be warm, sunny spring rolling in early.

“We’ll be out in a quarter hour,” Aedan called back to Alistair. “Go find Morrigan will you? Make sure she didn’t get herself killed.”

Alistair said something that sounded a lot like ‘if only’ from his side of the door before trotting off.

Aedan flopped down on the bed beside me, his head turned toward mine. Our eyes met. He smiled brilliantly at me, “Good morning love.”

I pressed a kiss to his lips, “Afternoon.”

He groaned, “Can we just hide away the day in here and leave tomorrow morning?”

Shaking my head I turned over to prop myself up on my elbow. “There’s the blight to end, people to save, and treaties to enact.” I traced a finger down his chest between solid muscles, “Besides, I think the owner of this fine establishment-”

Aedan snorted.

“Would not appreciate us staying any longer. Not with you making me scream like a banshee.”

He smiled a masculine smile at me, his eyebrows waggling. “I bet that I could make you scream again.”

God, tempting offer, it was. It took most of my willpower to roll out of bed and away from his long arms. “Aren’t you worried about-”

He was up out of bed in a flash. Aedan grabbed me about the waist and returned me to the bed where yet another round of foreplay ensued.

By the time we joined everyone downstairs, it was almost evening. The sun was dipping low in the sky. We couldn’t stop grinning at each other; the two of us must have looked like complete idiots to everyone else. Or sublimely happy, emotionally and physically satiated fools, either way, didn’t matter. Aedan held out my seat for me when we joined the others for food before we left. Such a gentleman

Roast mutton, not bad. Not great, but better than what I could make on the road. A handful of grapes on each plate, cheese and oh look stale bread again. With beer. None of them seemed to mind it; they all drank the alcohol like it was water. What was this, brewfest?

I don’t drink. Not ever. Not at all. Teetotaler. Hence my previous reasoning as to why I could never have ended up here after the traditional collegiate drunken bender my more average peers engaged in. 

I pushed my very large pint to the side with a wrinkled nose and went for my water skin. Alistair glanced at me, forehead wrinkled. He gave me a questioning look, to which I shrugged and popped a grape in my mouth. 

Wynne informed Aedan of her forethought to secure a modest supply of food rations for our journey. He thanked her then drew out the map, spreading it over the table.

“It will take another two weeks over the mountain pass,” he drew his finger over the ragged line of road cutting through the space between the Circle and Orzammar. “Or, we can take a boat down to Redcliffe. Arl Eamon may have recovered from his illness by now.”

I shook my head, nibbling on the bland cheese. “He hasn’t.”

“Are you certain?” Alistair worried about his former father figure.

“One hundred and ten percent,” I replied, “your best shot is to go to Orzammar. You’ll acquire another companion there.” Not to mention we might run into the merchant selling Shale’s control rod, or Zevran and his troupe of would-be assassins. Truthfully I was kind of looking forward to meeting the about to be former Antivan Crow, not so much his killable party pals. 

What we didn’t eat of the roast mutton, we gave to Jax who we left with Sandal and Bohdan before going into the tower. They rejoined us, having set up shop nearby. 

Leliana stealthily crept up beside me, hooking her arm through mine to keep me from running away. “You and the Warden?”

Thought we’d already established that. I blushed a little, “Yep.”

“Ah, good. I thought, perhaps, you two were angry with one another but that was a lover’s quarrel, yes?”

“You were all angry with me, him more than any of you.”

She squeezed my arm, “You keep your secrets for a reason. I understand that.”

You would. Whenever she was ready to come out with her story, I’m sure I wouldn’t be the only one willing to listen. “Thank you,” I told her after a moment of silence.

“But,” she said, “That is not what I wanted to ask you.”

Okay, I’d bite. “What did you want to ask me then?”

She giggled, honest to goodness giggled like a schoolgirl. She leaned down a little to whisper in my ear, “He is a good lover, isn’t he? Vigorous even?”

I had not been expecting  **that** . I missed a step, almost falling forward on my face. Leliana helped to steady me, giggling again in her mischievous ‘I know something you don’t’ way. I blushed hotly, feeling my skin burn as I mentally tried to come up with something to change the subject. 

“I had a bet with Alistair,” the bard continued, “that you and the Warden would become an item before spring began. I won.”

“Leliana!” Alistair’s scandalized exclamation saved me as he appeared on my other side.

She afforded him a patient if mischievous around the edges smile, “Yes?”

Greenish-hazel eyes narrowed at her, “If you two are talking about what I think you’re talking about…”

“Yes?” Leliana said in a sing song way that just seemed to beg the question ‘what are you going to do about it?’

He took my other arm and maneuvered me away from the bard. “Sorry,” he told me, sounding very much like a chastised child. “You weren’t supposed to…I mean…we weren’t going to…” Alistair frowned, rubbing his mouth with a gloved hand, “neither of you were supposed to know about the bed.”

I gave him a look.

“Bet! Bet,” he corrected quickly, “sorry. Again. Sorry.”

“What bed?”

Alistair blushed a deep crimson color, “I misspoke, and I didn’t mean to say…I mean I didn’t want to imply…Oh maker.”

An idea struck me, why hadn’t I ever thought of that before? If you didn’t romance Fenris or Isabella they took up with one another. Who was to say Alistair and Leliana wouldn’t do the same. I looked him up and down, carefully assessing whether he might still be a virgin or not. With girls there was always a little more sway to their walk, with guys it was usually a strut. Unless of course he regretted it.

“Al,” I said cautiously, lowering my voice a bit, “did you and Leliana-”

“What!” He cried, his neck and ears changing color shades, “Maker no. No.” He took a deep breath, muttering a prayer I couldn’t make out well enough to know what he said. “Elyria,  _ no _ ,” he said emphatically, still blushing like a beet, “you know life in the chantry. It doesn’t exactly make for rambunctious boys.”

“Right,” I gave him a consolatory pat on the shoulder, “Someday you’ll meet Mrs. Right and she’ll knock you off your feet.”

“With my luck I’ve already met her and scared her off.”

Getting ourselves back on a decent sleep schedule took a few days, but eventually it happened. The only difference now was that I was sleeping Aedan’s tent on a regular basis. As in pretty much every night even though engaging in sexy time was not a regular event for us, we shared the tent and cuddle time. 

Aedan roused me as he came back in from watch, kissing me awake. The days this far north weren’t as cold I found, though my breath did still puff a little in the air during the early mornings.

I supposed the geographical weather was the direct opposite of my world. In the game Zevran always talked about the heat and stink of Antiva which was north and east of Ferelden. Added to the absolute lack of weather and or precipitation in Kirkwall – in game that is – lead me to believe that weather here worked sort of in the reverse. The further north you went, the warmer it got. I’m certain at some point the seasons shifted, but I had no way to prove it or judge therefore I didn’t bother. 

Besides, when we entered the mountain range it wouldn’t matter what the natural weather on sea level was. I was betting on frosty days again. Possibly meant lots of snow too. At home a lot of snow would have been a celebration and delayed classes, even cancelled classes. Here it might mean frostbite. 

Alistair joined me in patrol every morning. We went around the camp a couple of times before going back to working on my battle tactics. I was getting to be a lot better at dodging and striking quickly. My dual wield strategy, dagger in one hand and short sword in the other worked better as well. My movements threw Alistair off his game occasionally. Technically I guess I should have been classified as a dual wielding warrior because I lacked the stealth of a rogue completely.

One morning, while we were sparring, he held his shield up to take the hit I was about to deliver. An idea struck me half a second before my blade thunked against the heavy wood. I sidestepped, turning my back into his shield and hit his side, my blade nicking the armor.

Alistair stopped, full on froze only to flip around and examine the damage I just inflicted. Since the day after we began he used lighter armor when working with me, to conserve his energy for actual battles. I’d never hit him before so the armor hadn’t really mattered. The templar touched the light brown spot where my blade struck him a few times, a crease between his brows.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted, “I could have hurt you. I didn’t mean to. I thought-”

“Elyria,” he said calmly showing me the spot where my blade cut a small slice into the armor, “this was the point of all our work. You should be able to defend yourself without back up, and if this is any indication, you’re going to do well on your own if need be.”

“Still,” I said, “I feel like crap for doing that. I should have warned you or something.”

“You’re not going to warn someone attacking you.” He positioned himself away from me again, shield and longsword at the ready, “Alright, again. I want you to try to do what you did before.”

Gripping both blades hard, we began again. He struck at me with his blade, I blocked holding the short sword while striking with my right and the dagger. He moved his shield into position and again I stepped around it using my back to slide over and past the metal, and him, placing my blade back where I caught him the last time.

“I think I win again templar,” I told him with a triumphant grin.

Only I didn’t. Alistair, the scheming jerk, also turned and struck my wrist with his forcing me to drop my hand. He put his long sword across my neck, safely inches away but definitely a kill as far as training was concerned.

I scowled at him darkly.

He grinned his shit eating grin at me.

“I hate you,” I muttered as he extracted his blade.

“No you don’t Ellie.”

I flipped him the bird while I grabbed my sword off the ground. “Right now, I kind of do though.”

He nodded at my hand, “What does that mean?”

I sighed, I couldn’t even insult him. “It’s akin to saying eff you.”

“And what does that mean?”

Shaking my head I grabbed my water skin off the ground, “Never mind, it’s rude and your virgin ears don’t need to hear it.”

He dropped onto the ground next to me, also sipping from his water skin. We sat in companionable silence for a while. The morning sun felt good and warm on my skin, the dewy grass reminding me of the cool air I only recently had begun to get used to. There was time left before we needed to get back to the campsite. After a few moments Alistair turned toward me a little wearing a curious expression.

“Tell me something Ellie,” he said my nickname like he was still trying to get used to it. I insisted he call me El or Ellie, I hated hearing my full name all the time. It felt so formal. “Where would you have gone if the Warden insisted on leaving you behind in Lothering?”

“Easy enough answer,” I told him as I watched fluffy white clouds swim by us in the cool blue of the sky. “Gwaren. I would have tried to buy my way onto a boat to get to Kirkwall. I know of some people there I could ask for help. Aside from that Denerim most likely, right now it’s one of the few non-darkspawn infested places. There’s a woman, a ship captain,”  **pirate** more like, “at the Pearl who will be heading north sooner or later. I’d pay her to take me to Kirkwall.”

Alistair’s brow furrowed, “You refer to places in Thedas like someone born here, but you aren’t.”

I smiled wryly at him, “No I am not.”

That seemed acceptable enough an answer for him. He bobbed his head, “Kirkwall would be your destination of choice then?”

“Pretty much,” I said, “if I had to stay in Thedas but I wasn’t wanted around. Or the Warden hadn’t taken me with the group. That’s where I would have gone to.” I got up dusting myself off, “Come on templar, we’ve got a small army to feed.”

During the days following after the circle we trekked up and down steadily mounting hills, following the Imperial Highway toward the Frostback mountain range. The flat lands, forests and plateaus between hills were growing smaller and less frequent until we were standing at the base of one mountain. Fuji and Everest, eat your damn hearts out. Holy crap it was gigantically enormous. I felt like an flea on the back of an ant in the shadow of it.

Unlike my world, man and dwarven kind in Thedas hadn’t simply tunneled through. There was a footpath, wide enough for only two people to walk side by side at a time. The pathway was marked by heavy, carved stone much the way the American and Canadian border was marked, minus the mowed down trees. They didn’t use kilometers to measure, thank you baby Jesus, but miles. I didn’t like the numbers on the side of the marker, but I liked it more than the goddamn weather as we trekked upward. The harsh winds coming down off the mountain top smacked at us, stinging our exposed skin. Frostbite would become a very real threat to all of us if we weren’t careful.

“We can’t camp until we’re off the mountain,” Aedan’s voice bounced off the mountain, echoing. “If we get caught under an avalanche we’re all dead.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” I called back to him, only my voice was lost to the wind. Wynne and I, we were using the buddy system, it was safer that way, followed up behind Leliana and Morrigan. They were behind Aedan and Sten. Alistair and Jax covered our backs. 

We’d sent Bohdan and Sandal around the other way, it would take them longer to reach Orzammar but it would be less dangerous for them. Before splitting up I asked them to keep an eye out for a stranded merchant. A man with an ox who was looking to get rid of something he thought might be bringing him bad luck. I hoped they might pick up Shale’s control rod and save us the trouble of having to find the merchant on our own. Bohdan, I think, had a sixth sense of some sort in regards to money. He always managed to find himself in just about the right place in the right time. Hopefully it would work, but who knew?

His luck since meeting us could be considered coincidental. Or divine intervention.

I kept thinking, kept wondering, when Zeveran would make his move. I hoped he hadn’t gotten ahead of us, that maybe he was behind us somewhere setting up a trap. Maybe he would have guessed our plan to loop around back down toward Redcliffe after Orzammar. Maybe I was putting too much stock in the assassin, but as a character I liked him.

Romanced him once as my Lady Aeducan, it was interesting. The elf has a lot of serious emotional issues and psychological baggage. My former head shrinker would have loved him. Yes I was in therapy, my parents didn’t get that I just wasn’t going to be a golden child like Vi and Bash. 

Thankfully the path we followed up the mountain didn’t lead to the very peak. It leveled out for a good hundred and fifty feet before leading to a pathway back down again. I stared up at the white capped mountain top as we passed it, listening for that tell tale sound that meant I had between fifteen and twenty seconds left to live. The sound never came thankfully. Thick billowing clouds of snow blew off the top raining white on us for the handful of minutes we spent crossing over that one hundred and fifty foot plateau. After what seemed like a small eternity we managed to go down the mountain again, dusted with snowy white, shivering to the bone the lot of us.

By the time we reached the base, it was dark. Morrigan and Wynne lit torches for us to carry because there was no moonlight. There was nothing but darkness beyond the brilliant orange-yellow glow of our torches. When I got here I was scared, and when we faced down monsters, I was terrified. Walking through absolute darkness through a thick forest housing who knew what with nothing but a path to follow toward another mountain? Petrifying.

Eventually Aedan called camp. We’d gone far enough into the woods to block off a lot of the sharp winds, but the bone deep chill would not go away no matter how high we built the bonfire. Leliana and Alistair, while searching for kindling came across a fat wild turkey brazen enough to threaten them for being in its territory. Thankfully I hadn’t had to de-feather and gut the thing alone, Wynne was more than happy to help.

Wynne and I set it on a spit and then I went to huddle against Aedan who wrapped his arms around me while we waited for the food to cook. He rubbed my arms with his gloved hands generating a little warmth. My teeth chattered. Nearby Alistair swore under his breath about Andraste’s holy bloomers while he tried to get his tent to cooperate in the winds. Leliana crouched next to the fire her hands practically touching the flames. Wynne did much the same, rubbing her hands every so often to spread the warmth. Hell even Morrigan joined us rather than sleep apart. The only one not showing any sign of being bothered by the weather was Sten. Aside from his proximity to the fire pit, he took the wind and biting chill like a champ.

Beyond our little campsite the mountains spread on for what seemed like forever. They were epically beautiful and just as dangerous. Bohdan, before he left us to trek around the other way, was a life saver. He managed to purloin some heavy woolen material we used to shield ourselves from the freezing air around us. Periodically light clouds of snow fell down on the camp, dusting everything with dots of fine white powder.

This, this is what I imagined frozen over Hell felt like.

Or Hoth.

Alistair finally managed to get his tent to cooperate, joining us looking miserable and yet somehow triumphant by the fire. He shared the log Aedan and I sat on, sparing Jax an absent minded behind the ear rub. Jax gave him a happy dog tongue loll.

“Leliana,” Aedan said after several minutes of silence interrupted only by the wind and the sound of the fire popping and cracking. “You were a bard, do you know any stories?”

“Quite a few,” the bard answered, slightly deviating from the traditional response, “but none for a night like this I am afraid.”

Shaking my head in sheer incredulity, “There isn’t a single horror story in your entire repertoire?”

She glanced back at me, “I know many stories that are terrible, but none that are horrible.”

Groaning in genuine disappointment my inner nerd reared its ugly head. “Figure of speech. A horror story is full of suspense, danger and death, with a rampant murderous fiend causing havoc, and mayhem. There are usually between five and ten friends who stumble across the would be evildoer. Most of them end up dead save one or two who destroy or subdue the bad guy until help arrives.”

Every pair of eyes were on me, all of them giving me the ‘why you so crazy’ look.

Even Sten.

The hell with that. 

I shrugged off Aedan’s hands, which had stopped rubbing by that point and wrapped my blanket around my shoulders more tightly. “Alright guess I’m in charge of story time tonight. Don’t any of you blame me tomorrow morning when you haven’t slept a damn wink because you were too scared.”

The next morning Alistair kept looking over his shoulder at the woods. In the morning light they looked much friendlier than they had the evening before. Still, they were thick and shadowy and apparently Alistair’s imagination was lending itself to overdrive mode since my story last night. He had twenty dollar bags under his eyes and kept looking behind us.

“Oh for the love of,” I smacked him upside the head when he almost put the whole pouch of salt into the fire. “Al, get it together man.”

He winced, “Right. Sorry. Right.” Twenty seconds later, back at the woods.

Sighing, “Are you sensing darkspawn?”

“…no?”

“Then get your head out of the clouds. Breakfast doesn’t cook itself you know.”

He tied off the salt pouch again putting it back where it belonged and took out the pepper pouch. Thankfully this time he paid enough attention to only sprinkle the eggs. After he put the pouch away, he rubbed one hand over the spot where I thumped him one. “The story last night…”

I bit my tongue to stop from laughing. Managing a straight face, “Yep?”

“None of that happened, did it?”

Completely without emotion, “I don’t know. Did it?”

He blanched, swallowing hard, “Elyria?”

“Yes?”

“You’re not a pod person are you?”

“Am I?” Holding a straight, blank face took a lot of effort. Just as he looked like he was going to cry or run away, I snorted and stuck my tongue out at him. “What’s wrong Al? Don’t you want to join us?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, “That. Is. Not. Funny.”

Dishing him a wedge of bread with cheese melted over it, “It is, a little bit though.”

“You’re a little frightening, I hope you know that.”

“I do, but that’s what you like about me.”

Aedan emerged from his tent looking a little bit tired. Everyone had bags under their eyes, save Jax and me. We, the dog and I, slept soundly in my tent until Aedan came to wake us for morning patrol. Jax, the traitor, went into sleep with Aedan for the couple of hours between watch shifts.

I, like the dog, was bright eyed and bushy tailed even with the weather. I made sure to clang the pots and pans so everyone suffered the wrath of a sleep deprivation hangover. I made a mental note to tell the urban legend about kidneythieves next time. Or I could tell the one about the woman in white, or hell, basically any episode of Supernatural or Sleepy Hollow for that matter.

Ooo, my inner nerd reared up. Poltergeist. The tree scene scared the crap out of me as a kid. 

Insert evil, maniacal laughter here.

“Elyria,” Leliana walked alongside me as we trekked toward the mountain rage, “may I ask you something about the story you told us last night?”

“It isn’t real, it’s just a story. No one became a pod person, I promise.”

She shook her head, “No, no, I know that it was a story. A very good one, even I feared sleep for a few hours. I do not know many horror stories as you call them. I would like to borrow it if I may.”

My kingdom for royalty rights! “Yeah, sure just don’t change the ending. It ends that way for a reason.”

“The tale would have no meaning without the ending,” she smiled at me, a little tired around the edges. “You will tell us another soon, yes?”

Leave it to a bard to change Invasion of the Body Snatchers into a cautionary tale for the ages. Insert long, drawn out inner sigh here. “Yep, absolutely.”

Alistair’s yawn drew our attention.

“Hey sleepy head,” I called back to him, “are you going to make it through the day?”

Leliana giggled.

He scowled, shuffling quicker to catch up with us, “I was up half the night afraid of the pod people because of you!”

“Ah stop whining ya big baby. Pod people don’t exist. It is just a story, one I just gave Leliana permission to retell at will for the rest of her life.”

Alistair managed to look dismayed and terrified at the very prospect. So much so that the bard and I began to giggle, hers was a soft girly pitch sounding perfectly feminine. Mine, sounding more like a snorting piglet in comparison.


	9. Part One, Chapter Nine

Chapter 9:

The mountains eventually gave way to a plateau that forked into roads. The roads lead off in separate directions, one leading deeper into the mountains that would eventually let out in Orlais. The other fork led toward our destination, Orzammar and the next part of the journey/quest. 

It felt weird putting it that way. Our journey. Our quest, but somewhere along the way I became part of the story. My fate, as far as I knew, was tied with everyone else’s. The only dividing factor between me and them, I knew the endings. I knew what to say and who to talk to and they didn’t. 

Lining the road there were massive stone effigies twenty feet high. The solid grey granite was carved with exquisite detail and probably done entirely by hand, knowing these dwarves. Some of them were dwarven men, others were dwarven women. One held a shield, others held immense weapons. One, the last one before we reached the stone and metal archway indicating our proximity to Orzammar, hoisted a huge, heavy looking hammer high above her head.

Branka and her fellow Paragons.

As we passed her tribute I started to hum. 

Crazy Bitch. 

What? If the song fits, play it.

Playing on nightmare, this fight had killed me a dozen times as my Aeducan. Loathing and fearing it, I dropped back quite a bit to hang out with Jax. Aedan, having already been informed of the fight and the blood mage these would be assassins brought with them, already devised a strategy. Except, like most plans, he forgot to account for Murphy’s Law and all the havoc it could wring.

Don’t doubt that we were not prepared to meet them head on. We were prepped and ready. Our enemy was too.

Normally, when in game, the group awaiting us would have been clustered around doing whatever, talking about whatever. They weren’t when we neared them. Only the mage lounged on the steps to the stone bridge pretending not to see us. She twirled her staff around in lazy circles, acting as if her quarry wasn’t about to walk up to her and…

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up in warning, and I began to call out when the frost spell hit me. My whole body turned into an icicle, each and every exposed bit of skin screaming in frostbit agony. A split second later the world broke into chaos.

Rogues camouflaged by the trees ahead let go a volley of arrows. Their warrior’s shield clashed against Sten’s sword with a resounding  **crash-bang** . Alistair bore one of the other warriors to the ground, Jax tackled another mauling her. Aedan tossed a fire bomb at the two rogues firing off arrows at us before going after one of the archers. Leliana, only a couple of feet from me, stood back defending me and Wynne. Wynne healed us, or at least tried to keep up with healing the damage. Morrigan waded into the fray siphoning off the enemy mage’s mana while throwing out vicious taunts.

Beside me Leliana took a crossbow bolt to the shoulder, she shouted, that arm hanging down with an unhealthy droop. Wynne cast a spell at her, but another bolt followed zinging past my ear.

An eternity passed before my body thawed giving me back the use of my limbs. I could see the single rogue standing back atop the stairs with a crossbow in his hands. Later, while washing my hands of his blood, shaking with the realization of what I’d just done, I would question what possessed me. At the time though, I barely thought about it. I dodged through the fight, jumped over the dead man whose torn out throat leaked steaming red ruin across the snow dusted ground toward the bowman. 

He saw me coming, sending a bolt my way. It cut my armor at the hip, glancing off, not enough to stop me. He turned to run as I reached the stairs. Without thinking I slammed my dagger down into his ankle forcing him to fall forward on his knees. My short sword found its way between his ribs, the same place I’d hit Alistair a few days ago, as he fell.

“Elyria,” someone said my name in the distance. I wasn’t quite sure who. 

I remember watching the thin red stream of blood making its merry way through the tiny crevices of the rock. I did that, but it didn’t feel like I’d done that. I took a life. I killed someone. No. No way, I couldn’t have killed someone. I didn’t have it in me to kill someone, not anyone. I felt bad killing genlock. 

God. Oh god. I looked down at my hands, speckled with blood.

“Elyira,” Aedan touched my shoulder gingerly, “love, are you alright?”

Alright? No. I just  _ killed  _ someone!

He took my blades; handing them off to someone else I didn’t see.

“Elyria,” he said again, brushing hair from my cheek.

Looking up at him, meeting his clear, crystal blue gaze just helped to hammer everything home inside me. He didn’t look at me as if I’d done something horrible, nor did he look as if he couldn’t trust me anymore. In fact, he looked almost  _ confident,  _ relieved even. 

Tears were ready, burning in my eyes but for some godforsaken reason they never fell. Vomit roiled up from inside me, but never made itself known. Hands shaking I took the water skin from Aedan and rinsed my hands, wringing them a few times and wiping them on my woolen blanket.

“Better?” Aedan asked me as he too washed off his hands.

No. Yes. Giving him a grim, thin-lipped smile we joined Sten and Alistair in searching the bodies. This time I was careful not to touch the blood. Wynne patched up Leliana, who would now need a new chest piece to her armor. Jax, the ever resourceful pup, dragged the bodies we’d finished searching off into the tree line for nature to take care of.

“Your first kill,” Sten’s voice boomed at me, scaring me half to death as he dragged me out of the mire of my thoughts.

“No,” I shook my head, stripping the mage of her boots which were much sturdier than Wynnes current boots, the glowed a pale yellow in the sunlight. “You’ve seen me kill demons before. Darkspawn too for that matter.”

He made an ‘hnnmm’ sound in the back of his throat, which I assumed was him thinking. “First human kill,” he amended in his mildly monotone way a few moments later. He yanked the staff out of the dead mage’s grip looking mildly disgusted by it. He shoved it at me and I took it, dropping it into the magical space in the mystical Mary Poppins pack Bohdan gave me.

Fingers clenched to keep my hands from shaking again, “Yeah.”

“It will be easier next time. There will be no hesitation,” he said before walking off to the next body.

In the Qun that must have counted as moral support.

Heaving a sigh I turned around to look for another body, preferably away from Sten and his helpful tips. Instead I found Morrigan, arms crossed over her magically upheld bosom, golden eyes on me. Oh, wonderful, another one of her snark and snipe moments courtesy of me looking weak to her.

“Not in the mood Morrigan,” I told the mage dodging around her.

“Mood Traveler?” Claudia Black’s voice came out of her mouth, “your mood is not-”

“I don’t care what you think of my moods Morrigan. Your attitude is seriously pissing me off. I thought, when I got here, that you couldn’t possibly be as bitchy and annoying as you seem. I was wrong.”

Leaning in I hissed in her face, “And if you keep up with your crap I’m going to let everyone here know what your endgame is. Including how you want to get rid of mommy dearest for your own maniacal machinations.”

Golden eyes narrowed at me, “As you wish Traveler.” She stalked off haughtily, head held high, weaving through the bodies strewn about.

Great, I’d just made an enemy out of an ally.

Alistair, hands clapping, joined me. “If I hadn’t seen it, I wouldn’t have believed it. That was…”

“Wrong,” I muttered. “I just royally fucked up our relationship with her.”

“Does it matter? The sooner she leaves the better it will be for all of us.”

Pinching the bridge of my nose, “You don’t understand Al. If Morrigan doesn’t play her part in this you and Aedan could both end up dead. In the end, we might need her.”

His brow creased, he looked down at me with uncertainty in his eyes, “Another one of those things you can’t tell us until you can?”

See, he got it! “Trust me Al; in order to avoid other things coming to pass we all need to make nice with her. Or else.”

The halls of Orzammar rose above us as we passed through the doorway, huge, majestic and the slightest bit intimidating. Here, more than anywhere else in Thedas, they played the Game of Thrones better than any Lannister, Stark or Frey. Proof lay before us in the bloody body being taken away. Harrowmont’s men and Behlen’s men walked off in opposite directions glaring darkly at one another.

Funny enough, there were only two people who knew the actual story.

Me and that little bastard Behlen. 

He committed fratricide, patricide, and helped condemn his other sibling to death. Did he love Rica that much? Or was he simply playing the long game while rolling the dice in his own favor?

No, I didn’t like him and yes, it felt really good when my Aeducan killed him during my play through. I cheered a little and made Emma clink glasses with me right after I did it. Hell I paused, reloaded and did it again for shits and giggles.

Aedan spoke with the dismissive guard who directed the Warden to the Diamond Quarter and the assembly. He returned to us after a moment or two. “From what I understand there is going to be a lot of trouble here sooner rather than later, there isn’t anyone on the throne.”

All eyes darted to me save Morrigan’s and Sten’s.

Groaning, “I can’t tell you which side to pick!”

“Not even a hint?” Leliana wheedled.

Wynne, thankfully, stuck up for me. “Leave the girl alone, all of you. Her knowledge is her own to share in her own time. She would not knowingly let us walk into danger, haven’t we already learned that?”

See! She got it too. The words ‘Behlen is a murdering ass-hat’ were on my tongue but I swallowed them down and nodded. “I can tell you that we’ll probably need to find lodgings. We are going to be here for a while.” Not that I had any idea of how to do that or where to find somewhere catering to humans, a dog and Qunari.

“How long is ‘a while?’” Aedan asked me.

“Long enough. We’re going to need to get supplies for the deep roads too. We’ll be heading in soon enough.”

The corners of his mouth turned down, “Elyria…”

“No.” I said, “no, Warden. I can’t tell you.”

“Can’t, Traveler,” Morrigan’s snide tone came from Aedan’s left, “or won’t?”

For the love of… “One day, Morrigan you and I are going to have a disagreement.”

“I look forward to it,” she replied in that same tone.

My fingers itched to go for my blade, but Leliana, ever diplomatic stepped in. “Perhaps we will find accommodations. You,” she said indicating Aedan specifically, “address the assembly and meet us here in four hours.”

Adean, with Morrigan, Sten and Wynne in tow left to do as the bard suggested.

“Elyria,” Alistair said, “that was not ‘making nice’ as you put it.”

Emitting a low growl from my throat, “She gets on my last damn nerve.”

“She baits you,” Leliana chided as we took off in the opposite direction, “both of you and you both fall for it every time.”

“Tapster’s,” I waved toward the brown and grey stone building with the bawdy music emanating from its open door and propped up shutters, “further down this way is Dust Town, not exactly a safe place for anyone.”

Consistent with the rest of the world, Orzammar was larger than it looked. There were more dwarves as well, and surprisingly they were not exactly as short as I expected. Alistair and Leliana towered over them, him at 6’1” and her standing at least 5’8” maybe 5’9”. Most reached to about my chest, some my chin since I was only about 5’4” and some change.

Jax trotted along side us at a steady pace. The dwarves going about their day gave him a wide berth because, after all, he was a mabari and they had a reputation for fierce protectiveness toward their bonded owners.

Tapsters turned out to be a bust. It was too loud and too crowded for us to even think about breaking through the throng. The barmaid directed us toward another building a little further down. A house in need of some repairs, built into the side of the rock face like most of the homes and shops.

“This,” Alistair said looking it up and down, “cannot be it.”

Rolling my eyes at him I knocked on the door. The woman that answered was small, dark haired with big green eyes that reminded me a lot of the elves in DA2. The top of her head came to just below my collar bone. She squinted at the lot of us with wary, distrustful eyes.

“Hello ma’am,” I said hoping she wouldn’t just slam the door in our faces, “I understand you might have rooms available?”

“Not for the likes of you,” the door closed, leaving us with a final glimpse of her pinched forehead and irritated scowl.

“Guess we’re back to camping outside,” Alistair muttered with no real enthusiasm.

“In this cold?” Leliana frowned, “this is terrible. I would like to be warm if just for one night.”

“Join the club,” I said as we made our way back through toward the great hall. 

“Ooo, if I do,” Alistair asked, “will we get fancy badges and fun nicknames?”

“You are so weird, it isn’t even funny.”

“It is a tiny bit funny,” Leliana told me, “if only a tiny bit.”

No matter who we talked to, no one was willing to let us stay in Orzammar. I had the feeling that if we happened to have Aedan with us things might have gone differently. After two and a half hours, the three of us resigned to having to sleep back outside. We meandered around shop stalls, looking through wares and selling off what we took from our now deceased attackers earlier. The stalls, unlike in game, were mashed together, side by side around the bridge over the lava pit below. I sold off the staff Sten purloined for fifty eight sovereigns and a few silver. I honestly thought shopkeep gave me too much, but the merchant seemed extremely pleased with the deal and Wynne (when I offered it to her earlier) insisted her staff was better for her needs.

Alistair looked at the gold pouch with a skeptical eye, “Huh, it was probably enchanted. They usually pay more for enchanted items. You might have gotten even one hundred for it.”

“What do I need with one hundred? We barely buy anything anyway. We just keep saving it for rainy days or purchasing food supplies.”

“The armor you are wearing needs to be replaced soon.”

I looked down at myself and the leather armor I’d been wearing since we left Lothering. “I know cured hide isn’t exactly best for a warrior’s needs, but can you imagine me trying to travel in plate?”

The corners of his mouth turned upward. Alistair snickered, “Good point.”

“Templar I will punch you, I swear.”

“Should I be terrified?”

Glowering at him didn’t help, he found that funny too.

“Elyria,” Leliana’s voice carried over the mild din surrounding the merchant stalls. “Come, see.”

I ticked my chin toward her, “Let’s go see.”

She twirled in front of us holding up a green, tan and brown chest piece. “What do you think? Better than this one, no?”

“Prettier,” I wanted to ask what the stats were but couldn’t find a way to not make it sound like I’d lost my damn mind. “What is it made of?”

“Ironbark,” the merchant answered, “sturdy material that. Dalish made. Very hard to carve, it is-”

“Only found in the Brecillian forest and you can only harvest it once it’s fallen off the tree.” I rubbed the edges of the material with my thumb. It felt rough, and there were soft welts in it that caught my nail. Almost like the person making it hadn’t been certain of what they were doing. “It’s not Dalish made. It looks like it, but it’s not. The Dalish don’t use tan dyes in Ironbark, they use gold trim to resemble sunlight. Usually Dalish make is deep olive to fade into the undergrowth, and an even darker brown to blend with the trees.”

The merchant’s face colored pink, “Of course it is. I wouldn’t sell it if it was not what I say it is!”

“Knock off half the price and you’ll have a sale.”

Silently fuming, the merchant tried to stare me down. Before Thedas I might have folded. Post Thedas, completely different story altogether. Leliana dropped about thirty silver into the merchant’s hand, leaving the dwarf pink faced and glaring.

“How did you know she was lying?” Leliana asked me as we perused another stall in the commons. 

“Dalish know what they’re doing, there wouldn’t be hesitation marks scoring the edges. You’ll see when we get to the Brecillian forest.” A long bolt of beautiful blue-grey material caught my eye. Soft as butter, and a sovereign plus twelve silver a foot. Woefully I put it back down. “And, usually when someone is lying their voice goes up at the end their sentence. Besides her eyes shifted up and to the left, she was accessing the creative part of her mind. She was trying to cover her tracks.”

Leliana made a soft sound, thinking to herself. “You world is very different I think, to teach you these things as you grow.”

“In a way, I guess you’re right. We’re more advanced. Where I’m from there are scientists that study things like the psychology of lying and liars. Studies about the type of people who lie and why they lie. As you go along, you pick things up.”

“Very different,” Leliana amended. “What is a scientist?”

“You don’t have an equivalent here.” Or, they didn’t yet have the equivalent. Dagna, the little red haired dwarf with the desire to study at the mage tower, she would be as close as this world would come for a while. 

Aedan returned party in tow. We met him in the commons where the blood from the dead dwarf was still being cleaned away. He shared with everyone else the problems of Orzammar and why we couldn’t get any help right away. I knew the story, the whole story not just the edited version he gave everyone else. Then we went back outside, because neither Harrowmont nor Behlen would see Aedan today. There was too much distrust circling through the ranks for us to get anywhere with them anytime soon.

Sten put the righteous fear of the Qun in the merchant who sold off his sword the beans were spilled. Sten’s sword was in Redcliffe. As I expected Aedan decided we would head south toward Redcliffe then east toward the Brecillian forest and the Dalish before making the march to Denerim. If I planned right, Bohdan and Sandal would meet us here in a few days, Shale’s control rod in hand.

Shale would prove invaluable. As much as I liked Alistair as a tank, Shale took the licking and kept on ticking. Plus, come on, the boulder chucking beat body slam hands down.

Life went on in the clearing before Orzammar just like it had every day before we arrived. Aedan wandered off citing needing some time to think once camp was set up. No one could blame him for needing time away from everything going on around us, not in the slightest. Especially me.

While Leliana told a tale about Andraste at Alistair’s request, I looked down at my hands turning them over, checking for any sign of difference in them. A change in me. I killed someone. I killed someone. Didn’t matter how I said it or how often I said it. The words echoed around inside me, an abstract notion within my head. My hands, they didn’t look any different, there were no specs of blood under my nails or rusty tinge near the nail bed. My armor didn’t have any reddish-brown flecks, or spots on it. 

It felt surreal, telling myself I’d killed someone. Remembering it. I felt the blade go in, the flesh giving and splitting beneath it.

I should have felt guilty, but I didn’t. I don’t think I could have. When I told myself that guilt was an appropriate response; another part of me reminded me that if I hadn’t killed him he would have killed me. I’d known this wasn’t a game. I knew eventually I would have to kill a human being.

I just didn’t expect to feel numb after it.

No, not numb, because I did feel something. I felt unsure of myself. Almost distrustful of the part of me that could kill someone so easily without a thought or care. I never, ever thought I could do something like that. Except, I had. And I’d done it protecting friends.

Did that mean there was something wrong with me?

Would I eventually turn into Lady Macbeth, going mad and sleep walking? Crying ‘Out, damned spot!’ at blood stains that really were never there? Constantly rubbing my hands under imaginary water that would never wash away what I’d done. The notion frightened me more than what I’d done.

The music selection on my phone was much smaller than the one on my iPod. I grabbed my iPod from inside my pack, pulling the headphones from it and plugged them into my phone. My iPone, pretty pink and black contraption that it was, probably only had a few hours of juice left in it if the battery hadn’t been zapped by the cold. When was the last time I turned it on? All those days ago when I had been a simple college student ready for her next class. No, wait.

Weeks ago.

Pushing up the arm of my sweatshirt showed me strikes that added up to one month, one week, three days. Was that how long it took for me to become accustomed to fighting and killing? It felt like so much longer than that. Had I missed days? Did I forget to mark them down?

No. No I know I hadn’t. It was a noon time ritual no matter the weather.

I killed darkspawn, I killed demons, I killed shades and now I’d killed a person.

And none of it bothered me in the slightest.

What did bother me was that my phone was indeed deceased. I’d never even turned it back on and the thing had died on me without so much as a sound. I felt an ache in my chest, anger and sadness tightening up my chest until I wanted to do the juvenile thing and pitch a fit. My phone died. My Kindle was officially dead. My iPod’s juice had run out. My expensive electronics weren’t worth the rocks on the ground.

God! If I ever, ever made it home again I would get a solar charger. My brother, the golden boy, got one as a gift from media mogul he did a major favor for. The little bastard threw it in his sock drawer and never touched it again.

Promising Alistair and Wynne I would stay within shouting distance I walked off away from camp. Up here it was surprisingly warmer than down in the valleys between mountains. I still needed the thick wool blanket over my sweatshirt and armor, but my nose didn’t feel like it would fall off any second.

Standing a few feet from the stone fencing off the ravine below, I looked out at the great darkness enveloping the world. Thedas with its millions upon millions of tiny white pinpricks in the sky and a low hanging moon so big, I thought it might fall out of the heavens. 

Sadly, thinking about Thedas and all its differences from my world reminded me of going home. If I remained here in Thedas eventually I would begin to forget small things like lyrics to songs, favorite television shows and the characters I liked or the train schedule back home. After that would go the shape of my friend’s faces, the color of their eyes, and the memories of happy times at home. Last would go the important details of home until they seemed like a distant, faint memory.

One day, when I was older, grayer I might stop and try to remember what Emma looked like. What my mother used to cook on Sundays. What my father’s cologne smelled like. The names of my siblings and our childhood together would have faded away into age. In that day long ahead of me I might pick up a piece of charcoal to sketch something and absentmindedly miss the colored markers for an art class I could barely remember. I might some day find myself humming a melody I couldn’t quite remember the name of or even how the words went. Maybe I wouldn’t even be certain if I was humming the right tune.

Shuddering beneath the blanket I pulled it tighter, knowing deep down that it wasn’t the cold running down my spine but dread. I didn’t want to stay in Thedas. My life at home, while not ideal, was still a life I’d grown accustomed to and liked. When I got here I’d done the mature thing and dealt with it, giving myself only a little time for a pity party. Oh I could have thrown a tantrum and freaked out, screaming and being childish, but it wouldn’t have done much for me.

Standing there atop a world I barely understood, I realized exactly how much I really wanted to go home.


	10. Part One, Chapter 10

Chapter 10:

Your life can pass you by if you don’t stop to breathe once in awhile. We didn’t have time to breathe. Before I knew our group had grown with the additions of Oghren, Zevran and Shale. Our lives faded into day after day of trekking, fighting and the occasional rest stop. Eventually I stopped keeping track of my time in Thedas, washing away the marks on my arm.

And, sadly, going home became a faraway dream.

Every time I closed my eyes I saw things my worst nightmares on Earth couldn’t have conceived. Thousands of monsters bowing down to an Archdemon that roared out brimstone fouled breath. The ground shook and the walls threatened to crumble around us. Sometimes I would see the Brood Mother with her bloated purple-black limbs, red oozing suckers like an octopus slapping wetly on a cavern floor. It reached for us, howling in outrage, screaming with an inhumane cry that left me quaking in fear. The demon in the orphanage, skewering Ser Otto with malicious glee, it’s voice booming off every wall in echoing stereo. 

Other times the spider queen. The queen herself had larger than any spider I’d ever seen before, or would see after. A head so massive it could have been a medium sized dog and so many eyes there was one for each of us. Her body, long, brown and furry rivaled that of the boulder she sat on. Under her a gruesome meal of hurlock split open, guts liquefied into a gelatinous black mess that she slurped down greedily.

Branka’s maniac smile as Aedan agreed to allow her to live and begin making golems. Werewolves lying dead on the ground blood spilled around them in dark crimson puddles. Shrieks slashing nightmare blades, emitting ear splitting, disorienting cries in the darkness, appearing out of nothing to stab and kill and maim. The horrors that came down from Arl Eamon’s castle lit afire, and dripping with malice.

I’d begun to sleep less and less, too afraid of my nightmares. 

Seeing my reflection in a mirror at Eamon’s Denerim estate was a shock. The round, green eyed face with a tiny smattering of pale freckles I’d grown used to for twenty odd years didn’t look back at me. Constant exposure to the sun left my skin honeyed warm, and my freckles more prominent than ever. My hair no longer looked like a mix of moonlight and sunlight, instead looked a bit like pale wheat colored strands. At some point between arrival and the moment I stared at the stranger in the mirror, my baby fat left me. Muscles from the constant walking, the repetitive fighting and the struggle of a hard road life gave my body an entirely new shape.

That, unfortunately, was where the good ended. My cheeks, once round with baby fat were gaunt, my face drawn. Exhaustion colored every movement I made. Heavy dark circles under my eyes and a faint handful of scars crisscrossing my bare shoulders.

A shriek got in a good few hits in the deep roads.

Aedan’s hands slid over my arms, “We can rest for a little while.” He dropped a kiss to my neck, arms wrapping around me. “Maker, finally, I can be alone with you.” It frustrated him that we couldn’t have time for the two of us on the road. If we did it tended to leave certain people red eared and blushing, or other people commenting on our performances.

Zev’s favorite past time since he no longer killed people for money.

I smiled at him in the mirror, ignoring how tired I looked. How tired we both looked. “You don’t say.”

“You make it easier for me,” he words tickled the fine hairs on my skin, “having you makes it all bearable. I cannot imagine doing this, any of it without you.”

Turning in his arms, I pressed a kiss against his lips. “Warden, I think your stint in the keep has made you mushy.”

Aedan scoffed, “Never.”

My fingers slid up his sides lightly tickling him, forcing him to grip my wrists to stop me. “Woman,” he groused with a smile, “if I didn’t love you…”

The butterflies in my stomach danced whenever he uttered those three little words. I loved him too, so much the feeling had rooted itself deep into my soul. The intensity scared and excited me at the same time. The enormity of letting my world go, giving it up, didn’t escape him when he saw my bare arms.

“I will marry you,” he promised me that evening with the Brecillian forest cloaking our camp in the still of night. “When this damnable blight is over, Elyria I am going to marry you.”

Still the butterflies came. Maybe because the idea made me nervous, maybe because not being from Thedas and deciding to stay scared me. He loved me. I loved him.

As I began to divest him of his clothing, Aedan groaned. “I would if I could Elryia. I need to speak with Eamon, Anora and Alistair about the Landsmeet tomorrow. We must go over what needs to be presented in order to oust her father.”

Disappointment made me frown, “Alright, go play your game of thrones.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up, “Game of thrones. I like that.”

“Popular book series where I’m from,” that I’ll never get to finish.

He kissed me once more, donned a loose fitting shirt and left our room. My reflection caught my eye again. We were going on nearly six months of fighting the blight. Winter turned into spring and then summer in what felt like the blink of an eye. We’d climbed the mountain to obtain Andraste’s ashes, and gone to Arl Howe’s estate to free Anora, stopped the slavers from taking the elves in the alienage. The story line of DA:O was slowly winding down to an end. I hoped that maybe once this story ended it wouldn’t mean I’d be dropped back into my world with no more ceremony than I’d been dropped into this one.

Zevran, never one to knock, entered the bedroom. “Ah, there you are. I had begun to wonder if you and the warden had decided to engage in-”

Blushing, “Zev!”

The former assassin paid my embarrassment no mind as he inspected the unused bed. “Are you certain you would prefer I not give you pointers? I think perhaps you might be in need of them. This room is much too…” he searched for a word, “ _ intact _ for two lovers who have not been afforded privacy these last few months.”

“Or,” I countered, “unlike some people we are just not into wrecking rooms while we get off.”

He pouted. Honest to god pouted. “Elyria, my dear, friend, you wound me.”

“Next you’ll want to rest your head on my bosom for comfort.” I pointed a finger at him, “and no, that was not an offer.”

“Bah,” he slid into the chair to the other side of the fireplace, “you are terrible to me, truly. It is a wonder I put up with you at all.” He took Herbert from the stuffed bird’s resting place, “this meeting tomorrow, it could go badly for us all, you know this.”

He had absolutely no idea how right he was. “I know Zev,” I ran a brush through my hair once more to ease the tangles, “but this has to be done. You’ve met Loghain-”

The former assassin chuckled darkly.

“And you know he’s full of crazy right now.”

He put my owl back on the night stand. “That is, how you say, an understatement. I would not trust this man enough to enter into a meeting with him, no matter the number of witnesses.”

“He won’t outright murder anyone in front of the other nobles. That would just make him look guilty.”

“One does not need to worry about guilt if one eliminates the competition completely.”

How terribly right he was. Thankfully the game’s story line writers had never taken that route. I cringed to think of what they could have written if that idea ever came into anyone’s head. The very idea sent horrified shivers down my spine.

Another knock at the door turned both of our attention toward an awkward looking Alistair. For once his armor was absent, replaced by embroidered finery. Whoever the shirt had been made for didn’t have his shoulder span, however. One of the seamstresses working for the Arl must have let the shirt out a bit, but clearly not enough. Alistair looked miserable in his green, gold and brown clothing.

Zevran, ever the observant, “My friend, I would hope that I am not the first to tell you this, those clothes do not suit you.”

Alistair scowled at him, “Tell me something I don’t already know.”

The elf opened his mouth to retort, probably something dirty and sexual to force Alistair into a blushing, stuttering stammer. Zev’s other favorite pastime. Mine too, but that was beside the point.

“Boys,” I used my mom voice, imitating not my mother but my grandmother, “if you’re going to have a pissing contest go outside. I’m sure the women of Denerim would appreciate the show.”

“Ah, Elyria, you would enjoy seeing me naked, yes? This is your way of telling me?” Zev asked me with a flirtatious smirk.

Alistair on the other hand groaned, covering his face with one hand. “Elyria…”

“No Zev, I do not want to see your scrawny elven bottom. And what Al, you didn’t come here to banter. What’s up?”

“I was wondering…” he frowned, his forehead furrowed while he mulled over whatever it is he wanted to say. “I wanted to ask if you’d…” Again he thought better of his wording choice.

Zev and I exchanged a glance.

Alistair opened his mouth again only to close it a half second later.

This time I groaned, “Al, out with it, already.”

“A month ago I asked the Warden if he would go with me to visit my sister. He told me the next time we were in Denerim, but,” Alistair shrugged, “with the Landsmeet coming and the Blight, he must have forgotten. Do you think…” he took a deep breath, “do you think you could come with me?”

Oh. Well shit.

“Ah! Excellent, I shall go as well. To tell the truth I have been curious to know what kind of people you come from my dear Alistair.” Zev ducked away from me before I could smack him upside the head. He danced away, out the door past Alistair, calling back, “I shall retrieve Leliana, yes? We cannot venture outside the estate without a fully armed escort for the future King of Ferelden, no?”

The templar’s shoulders sagged, “Why do I get the feeling this could be bad?”

Hugging him seemed to make him feel better. He hugged me back, letting go of a deep breath he’d probably been holding a while.

“It will be okay,” I lied, “but do me a favor. Go change into your armor. If you’re going to meet your sister and her family for the first time ever, don’t you want to make a good impression?”

He stepped back, looking down at the clothes Eamon’s servants probably forced on him. “I thought I was supposed to look like a future king?”

“Do you feel like a future king in that getup?”

“No, I feel like I should be on display in a shop.”

“Would you feel better knowing you’re in your armor and you don’t have to take shit from anyone?”

“Good point. I’ll change.”

Over the din of Denerim’s marketplace I could just barely make out Gorim’s voice as he hawked his wares. The last few times we’d been near his stall I’d been tempted to go over and ask how he was fairing. He had a child on the way now, from what I remembered and would be a father soon.

Goldanna’s house looked just the same as all the other little houses and shops all smashed together along the marketplace. Hers even had a small sign by the door indicating the prices for her to wash someone’s laundry. Alistair stood pensively in front of the door staring hard at the weather beaten wood for several moments. He looked as if he might be trying to figure out whether to ding dong ditch or suck it up and deal.

“We do not have to do this now,” Leliana told him soothingly, “after the Landsmeet tomorrow you might feel differently. Perhaps we can come back then.”

“Our lovely archer is correct, my friend,” Zev added, “If you do not feel up to it, perhaps coming back another time would be best.”

“Will she even know who I am? Does she even know I exist? My sister,” Alistair looked almost elated to be saying the word. He sounded it out, wrapping his mouth around the vowels. “Sister. Siiiister.”

I rolled my eyes, shouldered between Zev and Alistair and knocked.

The three of them gave me nearly identical looks of outright horror.

“Band-Aids come off faster if you just rip,” I said right before the door opened.

Goldanna was, in a word, pretty. Not phenomenally beautiful, but pretty enough for a woman whose life had been difficult. While Alistair leaned toward his father’s side of the family, Goldanna no doubt looked more like their mother. I could see the very faintest signs of her in Alistair with high cheekbones and an almost Roman nose, which he’d probably be overjoyed to hear.

If they hadn’t launched into the dialogue already, I might have said so.

The pensive, nervous but slightly excited expression Alistair had been wearing crumbled into saddened and loss in the handful of minutes we were in her sister’s home. As bad as Goldanna seemed playing the game, she was worse in real life. The disgust written on her face when she began complaining about money and her life while she blamed him for killing her mother made me really, really angry.

“Oh please, like you have it any worse than anyone else in this world. There are a lot of motherless children, most of them with no one to give them any help.”

“And who in the Maker’s name are you? Some tart-”

There was more to that sentence, but she had a hard time talking after I punched her in the nose. My hand didn’t even hurt afterwards. Halle-fucking-lujah, my gloves are finally good for something other than deflecting a blade.

“Elyria!” Alistair cried, going to his sister’s side to help her up.

She shoved him, “Get away from me!” Her lower lip split slight to the left of middle, her green eyes narrowed in anger. “Out! All of you out! And you,” she shoved Alistair’s shoulder hard, “Never, never want to see you again, do you hear me? Never!”

“Do you think we should give her some money?” Alistair asked, his voice low and reserved.

“Not a single copper,” Leliana replied before I could nix the idea.

“I didn’t expect my sister to be so…” Alistair shook his head with a dejected sigh, “I’m starting to wonder why we came.” He rubbed his forehead, “That’s not what I expected to put it lightly.” Al gestured toward the closed door, “This is the family I’ve been wondering about all my life? That shrew is my sister? I can’t believe it.”

“What were you expecting, hmm?” Zevran asked as we walked back toward Arl Eamon’s estate on the other side of the marketplace. 

“I…I guess I was expecting her to accept me without question, isn’t that what family is supposed to do? I…” his shoulders sagged, “I feel like a complete idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” I told him gently, “naive, yeah, but you are not an idiot.”

“One thing in this world you must learn my dear templar, most people are simply out for themselves. Nothing more.” Zevran said the hardening dialogue so nonchalantly. I thought it might sound more somber, or gruff, but no…it just sounded disheartening.

Which irked me, “Not everyone.” I corrected, looping my arm around Alistair’s and taking his hand. “Not everyone. A lot of people yes, they are out for themselves and it sucks, but remember that not everyone is like that. There are the good people, like you, like us who don’t put themselves ahead of everyone else.”

From the look on his face I wasn’t sure if my speech had softened the blow. He left our arms looped as we all walked back to the estate.

The books of this world reminded me much of the books written by Edgar Rice Burroughs, Poe, Mary Shelly and the Bronte sisters. Not so much in the way of content, but in the way that they’d been written. I could see books like  _ Pride and Prejudice _ ,  _ A Princess of Mars _ , and  _ The Fall of the House of Usher _ doing well here. Imaginations would spark and run wild.

Maybe after the blight I could write a book. I wondered if Aedan would enjoy having an authoress as a wife. As the wife of the Hero of Ferelden I might be more likely to get published rather than smiled at and asked when I’m going to have another baby. Yeah, it was that kind of world we lived in.

“Elyria,” Alistair’s voice roused me from my pondering. 

The book I’d been reading in the library sat in my lap, ignored. I smiled at him, sitting up from my lounging position on the couch, “Hey Al. Feeling better?”

His mouth twisted into a grimace, “A little. I wanted to talk to you about what you said.”

Uh oh. I sat up a little more, “Sure. Okay. What’s on your mind?”

“I’ve been thinking,” he settled down into the empty cushion my feet had vacated not a moment before. “When we left Goldanna’s today, Zevran told me that I should look out for myself more than I do.”

No, he didn’t. He implied that but he never said it.

Staying out of it was so hard to do. Christ. It’s like seeing the girl walk up the stairs in a horror movie and not run out the effing front door screaming like a friken banshee. Note to self, never put a scene like that in my book. Bad, bad, cliché idea. Excellent way to kill off an unnecessary character one needs to make an example of, but bad idea.

“Then you told me that not everyone is like Goldanna.”

I swallowed hard, “Right.”

His brow creased as he looked down at the floor, “I know I should look out for myself more. I don’t want to be the person that puts themselves last every time. But then…” he shook his head, “but then I remember that you’ve never treated me like that. Like I was the last person. So I guess…I guess I wanted to say thank you. Thank you for being there for me and thank you for being someone I can rely on.”

This is me, floored.

And kind of crying. After the initial shock set in, the warm fuzzy emotions built up in my chest until my throat tightened. There were tears in my eyes, “You’re welcome Al.”

“You’re my best friend Elyria, you should know that. I’m glad you and the Warden have grown so close. After I marry Anora,” he winced as he said the last two words, “you and he will still be here. I need my friends now more than ever.”

Swiping at my eyes, “God, what would you do without me?”

He shrugged the corners of his mouth turning up, “Run away to Kirkwall?”

“Meet you at the Hanged Man. I’ll be the one chilling with the broody elf and the dwarf that won’t shut up.”


	11. Part One, Chapter 11

Chapter 11:

The last six months living this life would never have prepared me enough for the Landsmeet. Knowing the game dialogue, the different options, the various possibilities was not enough. Nothing in this world or mine would have been enough for me and what happened. Thinking about it…my head hurt. I rubbed my eyes, they were bothered more by my train of thought than the sea spray as it lashed against Isabella’s ship.

Painful did not even begin to work as a proper descriptor.

Horrifyingly gut wrenching agony, yeah, that came closer.

I couldn’t even cry anymore despite wanting to break down and weep. My chest squeezed, my insides felt hollow and yet somehow I kept on ticking. I couldn’t breathe yet my lungs still drew breath in. The ache in what used to be my heart grew and grew until it felt like a great boulder sat on it, crushing it into microscopic pieces. Still it kept on beating out a steady, rhythmic beat.

Where do I begin? What to start with?

Going back to the beginning felt idiotic.

Why start there?

The night before the Landsmeet, Aedan made love to me like a man possessed. It was erotic, amazing,  _ mind blowing _ . He made me believe in romantic love story nonsense. We fell asleep together, both seemingly equally sated and content.

I say seemingly because when I woke, he wasn’t there.

After dressing, obtaining food from the kitchens and enquiring with our various companions as to where our great leader might be, I found him. He stood with Anora speaking about something I couldn’t quite hear. At the time I didn’t think it mattered, after all I thought I knew what was going to happen. Eamon wanted Alistair on the throne and Anora had agreed to marry our bastard prince. In my mind, at the time, everything was right with the world of Thedas. It kept on turning and our lives kept going the way the script said it should go.

Christ I must have looked so stupid to her.

An Oscar worthy performance by Anora MacTir when face to face with me. She smiled and inquired with me whether I’d enjoyed my time here in Thedas. I’d like to beat the bitch to death with that little golden statue. Her and her politician’s smile. 

I…where do I start though? 

My head ached and the brightly shining sun beating down on the deck and my shoulders didn’t help much. Rubbing a hand on my tense neck muscles didn’t alleviate any pressure whatsoever. I felt like crap, probably looked like crap and just wanted to curl up into a ball back in my tiny room of a cabin until the zombies rose and the world turned grey and lifeless.

Truthfully I couldn’t quite pinpoint when everything started to go sideways. That’s what they say, right? Things don’t go wrong so much as they slide away from the original goal or intent. The goal, our goal, until the Landsmeet was to get Loghain off the damn throne and put Alistair and Anora’s on it. In a way, that did happen. Minus Alistair that is.

Fighting Loghain came down to Aedan and Alistair, as it should have. Aedan fought him and won, of course. Then he pardoned Loghain and the world started slipping.

“No!” Alistair’s voice rang out through the crowd, echoing up in the vaulted ceilings of the Landsmeet.

I stared at Aedan as if he’d lost his damn mind. Maybe he had. Riordan wanted to spare Loghain and have him participate in the joining? Make the bastard a hero after having us hunted like  _ animals _ ? After he sold hundreds of innocent people into slavery to the Tevinters? After he allowed thousands of people to be killed by darkspawn so that he could control the throne and keep Orlais out? After he withdrew his troops effectively killing his King and son-in-law?

Damn skippy  **no** . How about hell no? Abso-fucking-loutely not!

Zevran’s hand on my tensed muscles alerted me to the fact that I’d been clutching the hilt of my weapon. He shook his blonde head at me. I looked to Alistair for backup but he was already out of our little troupe, arguing against Loghain, arguing with Aedan, Anora, Riordan and Eamon.

I took a step forward and was pulled back into place by both Zev and Morrigan.

“Traveler,” Morrigan told me in hushed tones, “as my mother has told you, as you yourself have told us all. This,” she nodded toward the argument, “must play out.”

“You don’t understand!” I hissed at them both, “Al, he won’t-”

And he didn’t. Alistair ripped off his sword, throwing it down at Aedan’s feet. He took off the vial of joining blood he wore around his neck, also throwing that down as well. It shattered sticky red black splattering the plush Orleasian carpet and across the toes of Anora’s pink satin shoes. No one stopped him as he walked away. He stormed past us, not sparing any of us a glance or a care as he passed.

I hadn’t realized I was crying until Zev’s arm went around my shoulder, pulling me into a friendly embrace. “Shh,” he soothed, “I will find him later, bring him around. I promise.”

Sniffing, “This isn’t how this was supposed to go. Alistair wasn’t supposed to…” my throat tightened all on its own, sore and achy from the well of emotions stirring up in my chest. “Find him, okay? You’ll find him and tell him…I don’t know what to tell him. Tell him he’s one of my best friends, okay? Tell him he can’t leave.” 

“Yes, later. He will not go too far. His friends are here.”

I wanted to believe him, so I did. Zev had an uncanny knack for tracking down people and things when he wanted to. His training as an Antivan Crow afforded him that I supposed. Swiping at my tears I helped hold up the idea of a united front behind Aedan. We all did. This is what we’d been working towards for almost a year. We’d been fighting to bring this moment into being and now that it was finally here, we needed to look like what we were.

Aedan’s own army, willing to back him through thick and thin.

“Anora will rule,” Aedan declared.

And then he did something that made my heart drop from my chest. He took Anora’s hand.

“No,” I whispered as realization struck me. Again, I was restrained though this time not by anyone. This time from fear and foreboding, I knew it was coming but still, still hearing it. Seeing it. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think.

Aedan stood next to Anora, hand linked with hers raising it up, “And I will rule beside her.”

The servants had come and gone with food. Arl Eamon’s people were tactful at least. They didn’t refer to me as the soon-to-be King’s mistress or a whore. Though not one of them dared to meet my eyes when speaking to me. I sent them away. I left the food untouched. Aedan had been gone hours. I chose not to wait with the others, our friends, for Aedan and Anora to return to Eamon’s estate.

I couldn’t.

Instead I curled up on the bed in our room, staring out the window, mulling over what happened. In my mind’s eye I could still see Aedan take Anora’s hand. Lace his fingers with hers the way he had so many times with me. In my daydreams I spoke up, I told him if he chose her over me that we were through. He always picked me because he loved me. Then I’d open my eyes and stare at the cobblestone walls and cry some more.

The tears wouldn’t stop. Or maybe I just didn’t want them to.

I pulled one of the down pillows against my face, doubled it up so the feathers poked through tickling my skin and screamed. I screamed and screamed and screamed until I couldn’t anymore. My throat was raw, sore and not just from emotion now.

I loved him and he chose her over me. He chose her over me. He. Chose. Her.

Over me.

My chest ached, my throat ached, I just wanted to cry and scream and forget that this happened but I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop myself from seeing it every time my eyes closed.

Maybe, maybe Aedan had a good reason for doing what he’d done.

Al said he didn’t want to be king, so maybe…maybe this was Aedan’s way of ensuring Loghain would have no hold over Anora. Or maybe Aedan was doing this to keep the peace between her family and his. Fergus was, after all, still out there somewhere. Maybe this was Aedan’s way of telling Fergus he was alive. He might break the engagement once the Archdemon was slain. Or maybe…

While I daydreamed up reasons why the man I loved would have chosen to do what he’d done, Aedan returned. The door opened agonizingly slow and he stepped in. Dressed not in his armor, but in a noble’s finery. A gold and deep velvet blue brocade vest over black garments, complimented by pale yellow and soft green trim. He looked every bit the Tyren’s son that he was supposed to be.

He almost looked relieved to see me. In two quick strides he crossed the room, pulling me up from the bed and against his chest. “I’m sorry,” he said, kissing my forehead, my nose, my lips. “I’m sorry, Ellie. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what else to do when Alistair refused.” 

Absently I played with the small fringe of his vest, listening.

“Anora approached me about it. We need a king on the throne. No one will put their support behind Eamon or Teagan. They support me because I’m supposed to be the hero, aren’t I? After all we’ve done Ellie, all we’ve gone through to get here…” He shook his head, tucking me under his chin, wrapping his arms tightly around me. “Tell me you understand.”

In a way, I did. I knew he was right, but I also knew there were other ways.

“I do,” I said after a short period of silence, “I do Aedan, I understand.”

He breathed out, relieved.

“But what happens to me?”

He pulled back, holding me at arms length, looking down at me with incredibly blue, confused eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” I told him breaking his hold on me, “what I said. What happens to me in this scenario? How do you imagine this playing out?”

“Elyria,” he pressed his mouth to mine again, “you stay with me. Always with me. We pledged, didn’t we? When you gave up going back to your home, you said you would stay with me no matter what.”

I did say that. I did. When I thought that I would be his only love.

Right now, I felt like the prize moron at an ass kicking contest.

“Are you going to put me up in a room in another wing of the castle? Do I become the King’s mistress? Because let me tell you, historically the mistress of any king is treated little better than a whore by the court. Any children they have are bastards, you know, like your friend Alistair. The one you stabbed in the back today.

“Oh and let us not forget, I’m not from here. How much speculation do you think will go on about my origins? About my birth? What do you think your people will say when they find out you’re not sleeping with your queen, you’re sleeping with some commoner who claims to be from a world outside of Thedas?”

He scrubbed one hand over his face, “Elyria, stop, please.”

I drew in a deep, slow breath, “Please tell me how this works out in your head because right now, it doesn’t in mine.”

Aedan reached for me, “Elyria-”

I stepped back, “No. Explain yourself Aedan. Now.”

“No,” he ground out, “no you wouldn’t stay in another wing of the castle. Alright? I wouldn’t be able to keep my mistress here. I’ve had this discussion with Anora already. And rumors about us, about me and her or you and I, would have to be exactly that,  _ rumors _ . I have to be seen as Anora’s adoring husband, and that is what I plan to be. Eventually I will be able to stop being with her, after-”

I choked on a bitter laugh; he wasn’t that dumb was he? “The bitch is barren.”

“You don’t know that, Cailin stopped going to her bed after a few months of marriage. He might not have-”

“Done his duty as king? Trust me, he did. I bet anything if you looked around you’d find one or two of his heirs from women he spent time with. Aedan, she’s barren and you’re a Grey Warden. You might not be able to have children because of the taint in your blood.”

His brow set deeply, an angry look crossed his face. “How would you know? You refused to spend the nights you could have conceived in my bed.”

I punched him. Straight up punched him in the nose. My hand stung and my knuckles hurt like hell. His nose spurted blood.

“You’re an asshole!” I screamed, “get out. Get out of my room, get away from me!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, glaring at me, “You’ll come around, El. You always do.”

“Out!” I snarled, pointing at the door, “and don’t you even think of coming back here tonight. Go spend it with your blonde poppet and her barren womb.”

After the door closed, after I was certain he’d walked away I let myself collapse.

Stupid, stupid me.

Zev’s room was empty when I went down to look for him. He wasn’t in the kitchens and the cook’s apprentice hadn’t seen him. He wasn’t down at the guard’s station taking their gold in a round of wicked grace or in the training grounds with Sten the Stoic. I found him, of all the places in Eamon’s estate to look, in the library. He sat on the floor in a corner, legs stretched out, crossed at the ankle, reading a book. The title was in Antivan which, since it was similar to Spanish, I could read but not decipher it.

He turned a page, “Ah, there you are Elyria. I was wondering when you would make your victory lap, as you put it. I have seen the Warden’s nose. Shale wished me to convey to you that you should have squished – her words not mine – his skull for such trespasses. Now, at least we know she is in fact, a she.”

Zev looked up from his book, his perpetual smirk faltering when he saw me in full armor and travel gear. “Ah…well I cannot say I did not expect but, yes, I did expect this.”

My hands shook as I crouched on the floor beside him, “Did you find Alistair?”

“In truth, I did not begin to look for him yet. After the Warden’s spectacular display of disregard for his woman, my care was for you. I may like the templar, but we are not friends without you as a tie between us.”

I tried to smile but failed, “Zev, do you know if Isabella is still here? She said she was going to leave in a few days, it’s only been two. Do you think she might still be docked in the harbor?”

His book snapped closed, eyes taking me in, looking me up and down. “You plan to leave before the Warden realizes, yes?”

Casting wary glances around for listening servants, “Yes.”

He smiled brilliantly at me, “Good. If you chose to stay I might have strangled you myself for allowing him to treat you so.”

For Zev that was as much an admission of caring as I was going to get.

“I love you too Zev.”

“Bah, love.” He said, but he was trying not to smile at me as he said it. Zev pushed off the ground discarding the book. “Come, let’s get you to the docks. Isabella is still there. I am sure, as a favor to me, she will give you passage to your choice of safe harbor.”

I don’t think he expected me to hug him, but I did. I stepped in and wrapped my arms around him, resting my chin on his shoulder. “Thank you Zevran Arani,” I murmured.

Thus we return to the beginning of my tale.

Except now, now I have some semblance of an idea of how I got to this point. Still somewhat clueless as to how I arrived in Thedas, but did it matter? I wasn’t in Ferelden anymore, I wasn’t worried about darkspawn or the blight. There weren’t any wayward monsters waiting to swallow Isabella’s ship as she ferried me across the ocean to Kirkwall.

Did I fuck up the storyline? Not quite as much as I could have. Whether that was due to my foresight to keep my mouth shut or because fate of all things is a ruthless bitch, I’ll never know. Not that it mattered now.

Maybe, I thought as I stared out at the ocean, maybe I should have gone to Kirkwall to begin with. 


	12. Part Two, Chapter One

Chapter 12:

We were six days at sea when I found the gold Zevran had slipped into my pack. Four hundred and ten sovereigns. Where the hell had he gotten that? I’d only saved up around one hundred and ninety-two. The gold slipped through my fingers as I counted. Six hundred to my name, holy cow. I didn’t know if it would be enough, but it felt like it could be.

I wouldn’t have found the money at all if I hadn’t been trying to find some lighter clothing. The open Amaranthine Ocean was surprisingly warm. As in a humid summer day on Tobay Beach warm. So was Isabella’s company. Her crew was as cordial as pirates could be to me, which is to say they didn’t leer openly or try to grab me. They were a group of rowdy pirates being rowdy pirates, which was good enough for me.

I spent my meals bonding with Isabella, who enjoyed the stories I could tell from my world. She didn’t believe half of them, I could tell by her face. She never stopped me though. Maybe she realized I needed to talk about anything other than why I left Ferelden. Or maybe she just wanted to see how insane movie makers from my world could be.

In the end, it took eleven days to get to Kirkwall.

“Sweeting,” Isabella winked at me from the doorway of my small cabin room. Outside her crew set out the lined plank for me to walk onto the dock, “now that you’ve gotten your sea legs, I’m sad to see you leave.”

Shrugging on my pack, “No you aren’t. You went days out of you way to do Zevran a favor.”

She waved me off, “I could have said no, he would have understood. I did it for you, poor thing, you looked desperate.”

I was desperate. “Thank you Isabella, and if you need anything, I’ll be here.” In low town probably scrounging for pennies once the money Zev slipped me runs out.

She turned round, eyeing the gates of Kirkwall with mild distaste. “No, I think not sweeting.” Isabella gave me what I had begun to label saucy smirk #3, not as strong as saucy smirk #1, or #2, but stronger than #4 and #5. “I’m headed somewhere different, for a larger payout than the Free Marches can provide.”

No, not really. Her payout wouldn’t come for years, if it ever came at all. Or she’d end up the Arishok’s new chew toy. Biting my tongue took tremendous effort. “Right. Every normal man must be tempted, at times_,_ to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag_, _and begin slitting throats.” 

The corners of her mouth quirked, “I may borrow that.”

**“** Feel free to credit H.L. Mencken if you do **.”**

I could still hear her laughing as I paid off the guards to get into town.

Okay, first stop, low town. I needed to find a place to live, one that wouldn’t cost me an arm and a leg until I could get a job. Hell, at least they wouldn’t want my social security number or to verify my permanent address. They would just assume I was a Ferelden refugee until they heard my Brooklyn tones. I was never so happy to be a New Yorker until I arrived here and found my accent unique.

Up one set of stairs, down another, I felt like I’d walked a mile before I finally got to low town. Probably did. Kirkwall, like the TARDIS and the 10 th Doctor’s pockets, was bigger on the inside. More people, more vendors, more dirt, more dogs just more. More everything, everywhere. It would have been great it if it hadn’t been so overwhelming. The hustle and bustle of Kirkwall reminded me very much of my beloved and sorely missed Manhattan. Dirty, with more stairs than a stair master at a gym, the mild stink of sewage and sweating bodies. Ah, all I was missing was the touch of soured milk every few blocks and I’d be home. I liked it better than Denerim’s hard packed dirt streets already.

Hell I hadn’t even been down to darktown yet or up to high town or-

Somewhere I’d taken a wrong damn turn. I was standing in front of The Hanged Man.

My memory couldn’t be failing already. Were there just more streets than I was used to? I found that out the hard in almost every place we’d visited back in Ferelden. Handful of paths leading to all the same places in the Brecillian forest? Ha, no. Try trails that went to dead ends and caves filled with bears and other such threats to bodily harm.

Going in and harassing Varric just didn’t quite appeal to me as much as it should have. Could I keep my eyes off his chest hair? Probably not. I read (and liked) too many of fan comics about Varric’s prodigious chest hair to not try to snap a mental picture for reference purposes later. Damn to my phone not working any more. The stories I could confirm or deny if I ever got home again…

Alas, my inner Ero-senin (that’s right I watch Naruto [I can feel you judging me you know]) would have to go without entertainment. Still the Hanged Man rented rooms and I was a person in need of a rented room. Besides there wouldn’t be a guarantee that Varric Tethras would be in there. For all I knew at this point in time he was elsewhere with his money grubbing brother doing whatever they were doing before Varric and Bianca saved Hawke’s purse.

The time between Dragon Age Origins, Dragon Age Awakenings and Dragon Age II had me a little skewed. All that I knew for certain was that I’d officially been in this world six months and about two weeks. While I’d washed off my literal calendar, my mental one still kept track. If I was indeed estimating time correctly then Bethany/Carver whichever one survived and Hawke were still indentured servants.

The gold in my pocket reminded me I could totally buy off their contracts.

If I could find them before someone alleviated me of my money.

Ahead were the stairs going up toward High Town and the marketplace, I knew it. To the right were hovels packed together with mud and cobblestone and sand. Left of me were more hovels and merchants kiosks. Low winds wafted through the buildings stirring up small clouds of dust around people’s feet. Merchants hawked their wares and a couple began having a rowdy fight about their shop.

I ducked into the Hanged Man and hoped for the best.

All I could ask for was that the bed didn’t have bedbugs or fleas. 

My theory about probably not needing references to work in Thedas turned out to be completely wrong. As with anywhere else, in my world or this, you needed someone back up that you were reliable, polite and diligent. After being turned away for the third time, I began lying and using Bann Teagan or Arl Eamon as a reference. No one would ever check with them, ever. Not with the blight still on and the world falling apart down south.

I smiled pleasantly to the woman looking for an assistant to some lord looking to buy a home in high town. He apparently owned quite a bit of land here despite being from Antiva. Mentioning I knew a former Antivan Crow probably wasn’t the best idea. The woman showed me out with a little bit of fear plucking at the crows feet around her eyes.

Another day down and no job in sight, god this sucked.

Back home job interviews were easy. I knew what to tell people because people knew what they were looking for. If asked if you could do something the answer was always yes, and here’s why. Follow up your why with an explanation about a job from your previous employer and you were golden.

My theory about the weather in Thedas, however, did work out. North was warmer than south. The days here in Kirkwall were hotter than the time I visited the Caribbean with my family. All those times I enjoyed baking under the sun to a crispy golden color made me wish for suntan lotion. If only.

Dejected I marched myself back down to low town. The only thing working for me at the moment was my accent and the money I had saved. People didn’t hear Ferelden in my voice, thus they were more likely to give me a shot at an interview. Unfortunately once they realized I had no references and thereby no options, they usually showed me the door.

I’d throw a pity party and shout about hating my life, but I didn’t have the time.

Writing a book seemed more and more viable at the moment.

And then, by some miracle, I looked up.

The shop where the couple had been fighting when I first arrived, was hiring. The  _ Help Wanted, Inquire Within _ sign charged me up with a new surge of hope. Okay, time to get down to brass tacks. Or however that saying went. I don’t know, my grandma used to say it.

The bakery – Jesus I was so going to gain like fifty pounds it smelled so good in there – was cute, almost homey. A plump woman with reddish-brown hair and soft grayish eyes greeted me with a tired smile. “Thank you for visiting,” she said in a gentle but worn voice. “What can I get for you today?”

Deep breath, I could do this. “I saw the sign in the window.”

The crows feet around her eyes deepened, “Do you have any experience in a bakery?”

At least she didn’t ask me if I was Ferelden. That was the first question out of most people’s mouths. “Sort of,” I confessed, “I generally can make things from scratch with a recipe. That’s not a problem for me at all. Cookies, cake, muffins, cupcakes, croissants-”

Her brow creased, “What on earth is a cupcake?”

I blanched, “What?”

“A cup-cake,” she sounded out the words as if they made no sense to her. “What is it?”

There were dots above my head, there had to be. Three dots appearing in succession and then blinking with a great big question mark at the end. Say what now? A bakery didn’t know what a cupcake was? Exsqueeze me? Baking powder?

“A small cake in muffin form usually covered in icing or whipped cream and sprinkles. Usually sweet, but sometimes light and fluffy.” It was a cupcake. How did she not know what a cupcake was? She owned a flipping bakery for the love of all that is holy!

“And you can make those?”

I shrugged, “Yeah. Of course.”

“You’re hired,” she trotted around the counter toward the sign and snagged it out of the window. “Aprons under the counter, ovens are in the back. Make me a dozen and we’ll see how they sell.”

And that is how I got my job.

The man Henrietta, Nettie, was fighting with the other day? Her cheating husband who left her for an Antivan sex worker. She yelled about it periodically throughout the next few weeks that I worked for her. Many, many loaves of bread fell victim to her rage. Thankfully she was more than happy to foist them off on me citing that I was too skinny to work for her and I needed to gain some weight. Mothering me helped her, and to an extent made me feel better.

I felt her pain, I did. My boyfriend/intended left me for money and power. Aedan may have claimed it was to save the kingdom, but that stunk like last week’s garbage. Anora would have been a fine queen in her own right despite what Eamon thought and wanted of his nephew.

Bitter? Me?

When Nettie found out I was living in the Hanged Man she offered me the apartment upstairs. It was small, meant for a family of no more than three people, with a kitchen that was also the dining/living room and two bedrooms. The bathhouse wasn’t too far of a trek thankfully, no more than two blocks. The rent was cheap enough too.

Nettie, I think, might have been paying me more. When I introduced cupcakes to her menu her sales jumped a little. She asked me what else I could make. I made brownies with and without nuts, fruit Danish, cheese pastries and chocolate filled croissants. Her sales went up a little more with each new choice. I began making muffins with filling and empanadas with meat. Blondies with white chocolate, dark chocolate and walnuts. Nettie had to hire a secondary person after my first two months working there to help take on the load of new customers.

I never thought my comfort food needs could be a staple in this world.

Nettie took sick as the seasons began to change again. I hadn’t realized it was fall until I was manning the front counter while the Nettie’s nephew, Bennet, worked on the bread we would need for tomorrow in the back. The door to the bakery opened allowing cool fall air into the building. The flour I’d been working with danced across the counter toward my apron.

“Good morning,” I called, though I wasn’t exactly certain it was actually morning anymore. Bennet and I, at that point, had been up since dawn working on the pastry items for the day. The blackberry-almond tart I’d been working on was coming along well enough for my standards. How it would stand up to the ovens in the back was a different story. They weren’t ovens so much as fiery portals to hell in the wall. Believe me, I’d burned my hands, arms and singed my eyebrows enough times in the beginning to know.

“Oh brother,” a very familiar female voice said in quiet wonderment, “it smells magnificent in here. Are you certain we can afford to buy mother’s birthday cake in this shop?”

Slap me silly and call me Shirley. Bethany Hawke and Garrett Hawke stood looking at the rows upon rows of cakes, pies and other various other pastries against the left wall. If I’d been holding something, I would have dropped it. The prospect of facing them left me wanting to run and hide. Facing another champion of Thedas, another one of my creations – who I undoubtedly made sexy – just did not sit well with me at all.

Nearly tangible fear clogged up my throat and made my heart beat double time.

God damn it.

God effing damn it.

He turned toward me and my brain sputtered. Yep, I did good work. Reddish-brown hair, green-gold eyes, a strong, square jaw, slightly reddish stubble. Gah. He smiled and my poor, wretched, slowly healing heart said ‘we’ve not recovered, shields!’ and threw up the defensive walls.

“Are you the owner of this fine establishment?” He asked ever so politely.

Wracking my brain failed to yield what personality I’d given him. Was he sarcastic/charming? Maybe. Possibly. I did remember choosing a lot of middle options, but was that the sarcastic/charming personality or the good guy one? I couldn’t remember! God I’d been here too long if I was forgetting that stuff.

“Ah, no, I’m not.” I tried not to smile at him but his was so damn infectious, “I do quite a lot of the baking though. What might I help you with?” Listen to me all polite and stuff. Nettie was rubbing off on me in good ways apparently.

He opened his mouth, probably to ask about a specialty cake for his mother.

Bethany shrieked, “Oh Maker!”

She was so loud and so stricken sounding I, a somewhat seasoned warrior, jumped.

She took a handful of steps, stood in front of me and peered at me with dark eyes, “Are you…you’re…” her voice was rough, and high and almost worried. “You look like her. Brother,” Bethany turned her head to Hawke, “this girl looks like her.”

Gritting my teeth, “Woman, not a girl.”

“I’m sorry,” Hawke apologized with another winning, infectious smile in my direction, “we were in Ferelden when the blight hit. My sister met a good samaritan she’s been calling Andraste’s gift right before we left Lothering. She thinks you look like her. No harm meant miss.”

Oh. Is that all? “I didn’t think you’d remember that,” I said honestly, “it was just a sovereign, I didn’t think it would be that much of a-”

Morrigan asked me once what was with all the touching. She didn’t get it.

Bethany, however, did. She dragged me half across the counter to hug me so tight I thought she would squeeze the breath out of my lungs. “It is you!” She laughed and it sounded a little like she might have been crying too, “I thought so. You’re thinner and your hair is somewhat darker but it is you!”

Garrett had the good grace to look confused.

Nervous did not even begin to describe how I felt sitting inside the Hawke home with Bethany recounting to their uncle (the douche) and mother (such a sweet woman) how she and Hawke found me. Surprisingly their uncle’s hovel was directly across from mine. We never saw each other because I lived upstairs from my workplace, so I didn’t need to go out more than to the bath house or to get groceries. They were constantly off doing dirty deeds for dirt cheap and thus, barely ever home.

The gift of a sovereign to help get them to Gwaren and then to Kirkwall made a world of difference. Aveline hadn’t had to sell her husband’s shield to help pay for their passage. The Hawke family hadn’t been forced to sell everything they had on them save their weapons. Just the junk and the stuff they couldn’t carry. When they arrived, they still had to sign on as indentured servants, but they were indentured servants who still had a piece of home.

See, that, right there, that’s an effing ripple when you throw in a pebble. At least nothing truly weird had happened. Like Wesley lived or their uncle turned them away at the gates. 

Their dog, Duck – no I didn’t name him – put his head in my lap and allowed me the ear scratches. An overwhelming sadness hit me as I rubbed the dog. I missed Jax with his readily attentive cuddling and puppy kisses. Duck seemed to sense my mood, nudging my hands with his cold wet nose.

“Good boy,” I murmured to him.

“He likes you,” Hawke noted, with his easy going smile.

“Yeah,” I said absently, scratching Duck’s neck and under his chin, “most dogs do.”

“Where are you from Elyria?” Leandra asked me with such a sweet motherly expression.

“East of the moon and west of the sun,” I replied cryptically. They would think me crazy if I told them the truth.

Unfazed Leandra went on, “Secrets to keep?”

“And miles to go before I sleep,” thank you Robert Frost.

There was no placating ‘this one’s a bit crazy’ in her eyes when she looked at me. She reached over and took my hand, squeezing it. “We all have secrets dear, you’ll find that none of us will pester you for answers before you are ready to share them with us.” Impossibly she held my hand tighter, “And I do hope you will feel you can tell me, or my children,” notice as she left the old douche bag out, “anything. We owe you much for your help.”

The burning in my eyes made me turn my head away. I coughed to cover the single sob that climbed its way out of my throat said enough. My legs bounced on their own expressing my inner need to get the hell away and hole up back in my place alone, in the quiet dark.

“You’ll stay for dinner?” Bethany pressed in excitement.

“Smooth change in subject little sister,” Hawke pointed out.

She made a shushing sound at him, “Hush brother, I’ll have none of your talk.”

“I-” didn’t even get the words out.

“Another time,” Leandra stated in her motherly, no nonsense tone. I liked that tone, it reminded me of my aunt and my grandmother. Both of which I missed desperately.

While Gamlen groused about strangers in his home and his home not being open to people he didn’t know or want there, Garrett showed me out. And walked me home.

“You realize this is unnecessary,” I said as we crossed the forty odd feet from his uncle’s door to the door at the side of the bakery.

He shrugged nonplussed, “When my mother orders to me to walk a woman home, I obey. She is my mother.”

“Ironically,” I snickered, “I always did the opposite of what my mother said. If she told me to clean my room, I’d throw some more clothes around to make it look like crap. Eventually she hired a maid.” Yeah, I was that kid. “You’re lucky though, your mother seems like a good person.” Unlike mine who left me with nannies or family relations when she could get away with it.

“Yes, yes she is. We are lucky to have her. We could have lost her not too long ago.” He did not elaborate further. I didn’t blame him. I’m sure Carver’s death still weighed heavily on the family as a whole.

“Right,” we’d reached my door, “good night Hawke.”

“Call me Garrett,” he corrected me.

My whole chest clenched. Aedan said something similar once. I’m certain my quick flash of teeth looked less friendly than I meant it to. “Hawke,” I repeated, “it’s what everyone is going to call you anyway.”

“Who will call me that?”

I shrugged, opening the door to the stairwell. “Wait and see.”

Duck liked my bed, helping himself to a good nap on it. Bethany liked that all of my dishes matched and my silverware, while not silver, was clean and polished. Leandra complimented my color choices for the dining room/kitchen/living room. She went so far as to point out how the curtain pulled all of the warm blues and greens together.

Hawke liked my weapons and armor.

After moving in I found a couple of mannequins someone had abandoned. They were solid wood not in terrible shape just in need of a good cleaning. With Bennet’s help I brought them up to my apartment. I furnished one with my armor. My basic worn armor had long ago been replaced by a much nicer set. Wade looked so proud holding it up, as if he’d created the greatest masterpiece in all of human creation. The man practically glowed brighter than the fire in his forge.

The other mannequin wore my clothes from home. Except, of course my bra. I kind of needed that on a daily basis. I wrapped it up with my scarf, jacket, hoodie and sunglasses. It looked very college-esque chic. The two sets of clothing were purely at odds with one another. One set fit very well – my armor – while the other set – my earth clothing – had grown baggy on me since I’d lost all my baby fat. The mannequin with my earth stuff also wore my messenger bag with all the stuff I came here with.

As if anyone would know what to do with any of that crap.

Herbert, my owl, however was situated on my nightstand. Keeping watch over me most nights. He didn’t keep the nightmares at bay, but he did make it easier to sleep.

I hammered nails into the wall and displayed my old swords, one being Thorn of the Dead Gods, already enchanted with fire, lightning and a paralyze rune.. Leliana was not quite forthcoming in how she acquired it. The other being Blightblood, and yes I had it enchanted. It sparked with electricity, went white with cold and glowed faintly green with its own enchanted poison.

I am, if nothing else, a  _ very _ efficient killer.

Hawke rubbed his jaw, his eyes on my weapons, quietly considering something. 

I’d never actually thrown a dinner party, so having them come by for a meal felt like a big deal to me. They were the first people besides Nettie and Bennet to see my home.

“You’re a warrior,” he said after I’d served dinner and everyone had taken a plate.

My fingers tightened on my utensils, “I used to be.”

“Oh?” Bethany helped herself to more of the salad, no tomatoes they were too expensive, but the cucumbers were quite nice. “When did you give it up?”

I rolled my shoulders to give off a careless air when I was anything but. “When I was certain I couldn’t be in Ferelden anymore.”

“This is lovely!” Leandra told me after several bites of deep fried flounder. She cut some bread sopping up the country gravy that took a half an hour to get right. “Young lady, if I could cook half this well I wouldn’t be living in low town. Why haven’t you sought a place in high town as a cook?”

I didn’t like how many slavers and bigots lived in high town? I didn’t want to live that close to the Gallows because I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t help a mage run the fuck away? If I saw the high commander I might save everyone the effing trouble and kill her as soon as humanly possible? 

“Too much hustle and bustle for me,” I lied. Please, I’m from New York.

“Brother is a warrior as well,” Bethany added, “he fought at Ostagar.”

I watched a bevy of emotions cross Hawke’s face before his eyes went hooded and he closed off his emotions. “I’m sorry,” I sympathized, “someday Loghain will pay for what he’s done.”

Hawke’s brow creased, “You haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?”

“Loghain Mac Tir is dead, he died fighting the Archdemon.”

I spat out my wine.

Son of a  _ bitch _ .

He’s a hero. The man that had us literally hunted across Ferelden. Who locked up his – bitch – of a daughter to steal her throne, then had people tortured, sold people into slavery and generally was not a good person. And the bastard got to die a god fucking damn hero. After the Hawke/Amell family left, I screamed into a pillow until my throat went raw. I kind of wanted to punch something in the face.

I mean I knew,  _ I knew _ it would happen. I did. It was one of the many ways that Dragon Age Origins could end. Argh. God. Christ.

My hands trembled with rage the next day, so I threw myself into working and tried to forget. By now Aedan and Anora were no doubt married living their lives. Aedan would be named Warden Commander soon if it hadn’t already happened and he’d head to Amaranthine to start inducting people into the Ferelden chapter of Grey Wardens. Which meant Anders would be arriving in the next three to six months.

Remembering enough to keep the timeline straight in my head did nothing to sooth my outrage. It just made it worse. She would visit him at Amaranthine. Flirt with him. Hint at what would happen once he returned to Denerim and their home. How they could keep trying for children.

That the bitch.

Could never.

Have.

“Enough of that!” Nettie yelled removing the pie crust I’d beaten into submission from my reach. She looked me up and down, mystified. Probably wondering what had gotten into me. “What is wrong with you girl? Have you lost your bleeding mind?”

I swiped at my eyes, “I’m fine Nettie.”

“Like hell,” her hands were on her hips, “you tell me what’s wrong with you or so help me Elyria, I will drag you to the Chantry and you can talk to one of the sisters.”

“Nettie…”

“Now girl.”

This is when I most missed being able to beat things into submission. Or stab things to death. What I wouldn’t have given to have a genlock pop up just so I had an excuse to gank it with a butcher knife. God I missed the old days when I could just kill shit and I felt better afterwards. The adrenaline, the rush of relief afterwards.

Couldn’t do that with Nettie.

“Thinking about my former lover and his pretty new bride is all Nettie,” I told her truthfully, of course I omitted the fact my former lover was now the effing King of Ferelden. “I just want to smash his smug face in and the pie crust was all I had on hand.”

Her hard gaze softened, “I know it is difficult dear, but you’ll get over it soon enough. I hardly miss my old lout of a husband anymore. ‘Cept on days of worship, we always went together.” She sighed a deep forlorn sound, “Go beat some of that oat bread into shape, an’ leave them pies alone for now.”

I did as I was told.

As afternoon came, and closing time, Bethany walked through the doors.

“Ah, sorry love, we’ve no more to sell. Come back tomorrow.” Nettie told Bethany.

“Oh,” Bethany replied, “no, no, I’m here to see Elyria. Is she hiding in the back again?”

“Oi,” I called as I pulled off my apron, “woman I am not hiding. I was working. I’ve got some stale cupcakes from a couple of days ago if you were looking to get something.”

“No, my brother and I were wondering if you would come over to our home,” she winced slightly as she said that, “when you’re finished here.”

We’d just had dinner last night. What could they want now? “Right, sure, yeah.” My hands were covered in flour and dried bits of bread. “Let me clean up.”

“No need, you’re fine as you are.”

Duck was going to love my hands.

As I suspected the mabari practically pounced me, cleaning my face for all to see. “Ah you beast, get off me Duck!”

Hawke tugged on the dog’s collar, “Up Duck, let Elyria breathe.” Once the large dog tottered off to do whatever it is dogs do, Hawke helped me up. “Better now that you’re not being crushed?”

“Damn skippy,” I replied, smoothing my work clothes. I wore a plain shirt, and plain trousers. Men’s clothing mostly, but they suited me well enough. “Bethany said you wanted to ask me something?”

He gave me that damnable infectious smile again, “I do.” He motioned to the chairs by the table, “Seat?”

My spider senses began to tingle. Something was slightly rotten in the state of Denmark. I declined to sit, instead leaning all of my weight on one leg, arms crossing over my chest. A glare leveled at his head, “Spit it out Hawke.”

“Garrett,” he corrected.

“Hawke,” I repeated. I wouldn’t call him by name. Dropping his last name would eventually lead to familiarity. And then I’d no doubt end up dropping my panties too.

Hey, I’m not a slut. I just play one on television.

“Bethany and I have a…mission of sorts in the next few days that is going to require at least one other person. Our employer,” the smuggler or the loan shark, probably the smuggler, “is willing to split the profit three ways.”

Yeah, like I needed the money. With how well the bakery had been doing I’d been able to squirrel away my hard earned cash and what Zev had given me. Plus pay for my own place, food and think about adopting a cat. Yes, I would be a cat lady. I can hear you judging me. Shut up.

“What’s the job?”

He looked almost relieved, “We have to drop some boxes off up the coast. It won’t take too long, a few days at most.”

“And what are we dropping off?”

His mouth flattened out, lips thinning, “I can’t tell you.”

A few days? As in more than one day? And he couldn’t tell me what we were going to be delivering, but it would take three people and I suspected no small amount of charm. Though…I wouldn’t have minded getting the chance to smash some heads in, come to think of it. 

I swear to God I was not this violent a person back on Earth. I was a tomboy college student with student loan debts and the inability to walk by a toy store without checking out the plushies. I didn’t buy them, I just cooed over their cuteness. Yes I was that girl.

“I have to give Nettie notice, and I need to hit the marketplace for some updated gear. My stuff is mostly enchanted to resist fire.” After all, we’d been chasing dragons.


	13. Part Two, Chapter Two

Chapter 13:

Mercs, mercs everywhere and not a one I couldn’t slaughter. Not how the poem goes, but when you’re hip deep in dead bodies, does it really matter? I slid Thorn up between someone’s ribs while bringing Blight down on his helm. The expected death sounds of ‘guh-uhg’ followed by his unceremonious, lifeless slide to the ground. Adrenaline pumping I pulled someone a lot bigger than me off Bethany and slid Thorn across his throat. Did I eventually get good at this or were these hired mercenaries know absolutely nothing about fighting?

Maybe I was just used to a better class of criminal.

Maybe it was that this morning I realized I have been living in Thedas for a year. When I heard Hawke had gotten a message to speak to Anso, I signed on. I knew I’d get to smack some heads together, vent my proverbial and literal frustrations on unsuspecting thugs. 

A year. I smacked Blightblood against someone’s face making the highwayman howl. A whole god damn year. Thorn found purchase in the same highwayman’s shoulder, I twisted the blade severing muscles and tendons. There’s no pasta here, a college student survives on complex carbs! He swung at me with his good arm. No cheeseburgers. I dodged catching his throat with Blightblood. Haven’t heard my favorite rock station. Eaten at Dairy Queen. Gone shopping for girly shit. Taken a goddamn  _ shower _ . I kicked his chest as he fell so the blood wouldn’t splatter on my armor.

They were herding us toward the Alienage, or at least trying to.

Hawke came to a stop beside me after we cleared the last of them, “Anything I should know?”

I grinned. See Hawke, unlike Aedan, didn’t push for information. He knew I had it. He knew I would share it in time. That was how months working together should have worked. Hindsight. 

I slid Thorn home into its sheath, “Have Bethany cast firestorm on the group at the bottom of the stairs.”

“Little sister?” Hawke turned his head to see her raise her stave.

“Brother, I never thought you’d ask.”

Bethany was frighteningly powerful. It’s awesome, and I mean that both in the modern terminological way of being cool and the original use of the term meaning awe inspiring yet mildly terrifying. The sheer power she brought down on the highwaymen lying in wait for us fried them like crispy critters. The smell of fried flesh, burned leather and melting metal? Not pleasant.

“There’s a lesson to be learned here,” Varric remarked as we descended the staircase into the Alienage. He nudged an overcooked highwayman with the toe of his boot, “Messing with us is suicide.” 

Varric’s obsession with Bianca? Downright pervy. He stroked her, and yes I am going to refer to the crossbow as female because I’m pretty certain it might have actually been a beautiful if violent dwarven woman were the crossbow alive. Besides, keeping my eyes on his hand caressing Bianca lovingly kept me from staring at the chest hair. Now I knew what it felt like to be a guy faced with huge breasts, you couldn’t help but  _ ogle _ .

Also, his voice actor was hot. I could close my eyes and listen picturing the guy from  **The A Team** movie. He played a bad guy so well…

We dispatched the handful of men who managed to avoid Bethany’s spell.

The warehouse turned out to be just as disappointing as it was when I played. Only I knew what was coming next. It took all my self control not to bounce on my toes. Were his tattoos as glowy as they looked in game? Would reality kick computer graphic ass? Please let it be yes. Fenris had to be, hands down my favorite DA2 character.

And in about three minutes, maybe less, I was going to meet him.

Plus,  _ Gideon Emery _ . His girlfriend had to be the luckiest woman in all of human creation. The man had one of the sexiest voices ever. 

This would be me fangirling. I don’t care if you judge me, got it? Good.

Varrick sighed, “well that was disappointing.” 

“Do you think they moved Anso’s items elsewhere?” Bethany asked casting around to see if we could possibly have missed anything in the room.

“I guess we’ll have to go back to Anso and tell him,” Hawke muttered dejectedly.

I grabbed his wrist before he opened the front door. “Twenty or so more mercs in need of a specialty beating.”

“Is that all?” The corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk.

The Tevinter hunters took longer to down than the highwaymen. I had my back against Varric’s while he shouted about how gloriously Bianca killed people. Of course I just  _ had _ to get the slaver that looked like he could flatten me like a pancake. 

He looked the way I imagined The Mountain aka Gregor Clegane might have. Thick muscles through and through, wide powerful hands that looked like they could squash a melon in each one, and he’d probably have given Shaq a run for his money in the height department. I’m fairly certain one of this guy’s parents might have been an ogre. He pulled two long, heavy looking solid blades from sheaths on his back. Hell at least he wasn’t wearing heavy armor.

Bethany healed/helped Hawke as he dealt with the other three Tevinters. They were busy.

“So what do they call you?” I asked, measuring the distance between his blades and me. “Little John? Tiny? Pepito?”

He grunted not amused by my attempt at levity. He started to move toward me.

I backed off skirting to the side when he swung and dodged around quickly. Blightblood caught the outer portion of his forearm and sliced upward nicely. I danced out of his way as he swung the other blade at me. I went down on one knee, leaning back as the blade struck sideways right where my head had been. Thorn went through the guy’s thick hide armor biting into his thigh deeply.

He howled in pain.

I had to leave Thorn in his flesh; it wouldn’t come loose before one of his blades came too close to my back for comfort. I settled for slamming my elbow into his codpiece as I slid between his legs and out of the way.

His arm sagged, the one I’d hit with Blightblood. The poison was working its way through his system with the help of the lightning rune. His leg gave out from the paralyze rune in Thorn. He had to hold himself up with one of his great big swords. “You,” he snarled at me in a booming voice that bounced off the hills around us, “are irritating.” He swung at me one more time, this time too slow.

I slid Blightblood down his other arm ripping the flesh open and severing muscles. The pain must have been too much for him, even with that big body. He dropped like a brick face forward into the dirt. Hawke had to help me flip the guy over so I could get Thorn back.

“He’s still breathing,” Hawke observed the slaver’s chest rising and falling shallowly.

I rolled my shoulders. It was a slow night. “Not for long with that much poison in his system.”

Cue angry Tevinter not wearing enough armor to be near people like us.

“I don’t know who you are, friend, but you’ve made a serious mistake coming here.”

One of Varric’s eyebrows rose as he caught my eye, tilting his head in questioning.

I shrugged. I couldn’t give it all away. Where would be the fun in that?

“Lieutenant!” The Tevinter yelled his orders, “I want everyone in the clearing. Now!”

3…2…1…In real life, the soldier coming around the corner was a much, much bigger mess than he was in game. Graphics could not get across just how gruesome his wounds were. Blood pool in his mouth spilling over his lips, dripping down his chest in a thick arterial red. Even more blood seeped from wounds seen and unseen, droplets splattering on the ground like squashed overripe berries.

I think I heard Bethany gag.

Hawke’s eyes widened slightly,his face draining of color.

Varric make a sound akin to ‘ugh.’

Not going to lie, for the six odd seconds we’d been subjected to the sight, even I was grossed out. Me. The woman that has seen The Evil Dead and all its sequels a half dozen times and the remake. The person who watched slasher movies for fun and relaxation, had to turn her head and take a three second reality break.

The bleeding, dying, man managed to gurgle out the word, “Captain…” before toppling over dead.

“Your men are dead,” Fenris walked around the corner barefooted, dark armored, full of vengeance, “and your trap has failed. I suggest running back to your master while you still can.”

If I didn’t have a huge problem with slavers to begin with, I might have given the captain props for not shitting himself and running away. He stared at Fenris with a mix of terror and rage written across his face. The man must have been more afraid of his master – or generally stupid – because he grabbed Fenris’ shoulder and snarled, “You’re going nowhere, slave!”

The lyrium tattooed into his skin lit up like…like…there was nothing for me to compare it to. Compare him to. He glowed all over, head to toe with a pale silver-blue light. It was both beautiful and terrifying.  **He** was beautiful and terrifying. 

Fenris shoved his glowing fist through the captain’s chest. “I am not,” he ripped his hand out of the dead man, “a slave.”

Hawke managed to recover from shock first, “Well that was…interesting?” He cast me a glance silently communicating later we would be talking about why I hadn’t warned him first. 

“I apologize,” Fenris said, nodding his head to Hawke in acknowledgement. “When I asked Anso to provide a distraction for the hunters, I had no idea they’d be so…” he sought for a word, “numerous.”

Instead of looking at Fenris, Hawke turned his head toward me again, “Distraction?”

Oh we were so going to have that talk later. Hawke, he’s awful good at the silent communication thing. I could read the man like an open book. And according to his expression I was in knee deep shit and sinking fast.

“You were responsible for this?” Hawke asked his attention returning to Fenris.

“I’m the reason you’re here,” Fenris replied, “yes. My name is Fenris. These men were Imperial bounty hunters seeking to recover a magister’s lost property, namely myself.”

“People aren’t property,” I muttered under my breath feeling the anger bubble under my skin. I’d seen people being sold into slavery in Denerim. Let us say here and now that I did not deal well with it. I’d enjoyed wiping them of the face of Thedas a little too much.

Varric elbowed me, “Quiet.”

“They were trying to lure me into the open. Crude as their methods were, I could not face them alone. Thankfully Anso chose wisely.”

“Everything Anso said was a lie, then?” Again that pointed gaze from Hawke.

I threw up my hands in a defensive gesture. Hey, I’d pay him if he really wanted. I had a lot of money squirreled away for a rainy day.

The ghost of a smile touched Fenris’ lips, “Not everything. Your employer was simply not who you believed.”

Hawke rubbed his forehead, “Anso’s job did seem a little too easy.”

Did this mean I was off the hook? Probably not. I made a mental note to make him a half dozen cheese filled croissants and drop them off with some butter and cinnamon. He’d get over it. Eventually.

“Perhaps the deception was unnecessary. If so I am sorry.” Fenris’ head bobbed once in acquiescence, “I have become too accustomed to hiding. If I may ask: What was in the chest? The one they kept in the house?”

“It was empty,” Hawke replied with a shrug.

Fenris sighed softly before speaking, “I suppose it was too much to hope for. Even so, I had to know.”

“You were expecting something else?”

The elf hesitated for a brief moment, “I was, but I shouldn’t have. It was bait, nothing more.”

“You didn’t need to lie to get our help,” Bethany told him.

Fenris grimaced, “That remains to be seen.” Then he got down on one knee and began searching the deceased captain’s belt and purse. He found something, made an aggravated sound and shoved away from the body back into a standing position. “It’s as I thought. My former master accompanied them into the city.”

No, he didn’t. He made it look like he did. I bit down so hard on inside of my cheek I tasted blood. No talking. No talking. This had to play out. Especially if Hawke would romance Fenris later. 

“I know you have questions,” Fenris continued, “but I must confront him before he flees. I will need your help.”

Hawke crossed his arms over his chest, “It sounds like you intend to do more than just talk.”

“Wouldn’t you?” Whelp, so much for keeping my trap shut.

“Very likely,” Hawke replied.

Green eyes flashed to me briefly before returning to Hawke. “Danarius wants to strip the flesh from my bones and has sent so many hunters that I have lost count.” No one could fault Fenris for the disgust that colored his tone, “And before that, he kept me on a leash like a Qunari mage, a personal pet to mock Qunari custom.”

“That’s horrible,” Varric said in sympathy.

“So, yes,” his face darkened, lips curling in a snarl, “I intend to do more than just talk.”

Another few lines of dialogue and we headed off toward high town. I was going to be dead tired at work tomorrow. Insert Tali’s voice here: Totally worth it.

Hawke didn’t flirt with Fenris. I’d been rolling up croissants for over an hour and still, I hadn’t quite come to terms with the idea. I mean, were I in Hawke’s position I would have jumped on romancing Fenris as soon as effing possible. Huh. Maybe I’d been so exhausted by the point we cleared the mansion that I slept through it. It was possible, I’d been practically sleep walking back to my apartment to catch three hours of sleep before getting up for work.

Hawke practically rolled me into bed. 

Nettie appeared in the doorway between the front of the bakery and the back with the ovens. Hands on her ample hips, gray eyes narrowed in my direction. “That is the third time you’ve yawned in the last ten minutes!” She did  _ not _ approve of my side job.

I gave her a weak, apologetic smile, “Sorry Nettie.” 

Bennet quietly took the rest of the croissants putting them in the heating niche right above the oven so they would cook properly. We learned the hard way they burned too fast to salvage most of the time. “I can stay aunt Nettie if you’d like send Elyria home.”

Which she did, ordering me to get some sleep, eat something because I was still too skinny and come back tomorrow ready to work.

I was so tired I nearly fell over my own feet walking out of the bakery. I fumbled with the bag of baked good Nettie shoved into my arms. Someone managed to catch me before I fell flat on my face. I looked up and found Hawke giving me a friendly half smile.

“Let’s get you back up stairs, hmm?”

Uh oh.

I dropped the bag on the table once we were upstairs, “Hawke, are we going to have that talk now? ‘Cause I don’t really think I’m in the right state of mind to answer any questions.” To illustrate this point I began stripping as I walked past him toward my bedroom. All I could think about was how comfortable those down pillows were even if they did sometimes scratch my skin.

After a moment or two Hawke did follow me. Like a gentleman he averted his gaze as I changed into my baggy sweatshirt – my mannequin didn’t need it in the winter I did! – and a pair of heavy cloth leggings I picked up at the market in the fall. Kirkwall got cold. Colder than mid winter at school when the ice storms hit causing power outages, that level of cold.

I flopped into bed, “Okay, I’m decent.”

He turned back around, “Elyria, you know I don’t push.”

“Yep,” I said sleepily.

“But you know things. A lot of things.”

I could feel my lips forming a smile, “Yep.”

“Are you a mage?”

Giggles erupted from deep inside my chest. I shook my head, “Nope. I’m just a plain old college kid stuck in another dimension from her own. Not that it matters,” I was babbling, why was I babbling? Did it matter? Meh, probably not. “It’s not like I can get home anyway. Did you know I’ve been here a year? A whole year. I haven’t seen my friends, my classmates, teachers, family in over a year now? I’ve been keeping a mental calendar. I came here a day or two before Ostagar. You said the other day that it had been a year since you fought at Ostagar.

“I mean a whole year Hawke. And how did I spend my first six months? Fighting the goddamn blight with a bastard – and don’t think I mean Alistair, he’s a good guy – I mean the other one. The fucking Hero of Ferelden, the damn Warden Commander. That bastard wormed his stupid way into my heart and then ripped it out later. Did you know he just assumed I’d be his mistress after he married  _ her _ ?

“He asked me to marry him not two months before and then he goes and gets engaged to that bitch.” I snorted, “Well I guess when you have to choose between two blondes you pick the one with the power and money even if she did rat you out and throw you under the bus.”

Hawke slid my legs to the side so he could sit down.

Did I just unload a lot? From the sag of his shoulders, probably.

“You fought with the wardens.”

Sighing, “I did. What a mistake. You know how horrible my nightmares are? Multiply what Fenris did to those two Tevinters and multiply that by oh, a million. I’ve seen things that could make a sane person lose their minds. Hell, I’m not even sure I’m sane anymore.”

What was the Ozzy quote? Oh, right.

“Of all the things I lost,” I told Hawke, “I miss my mind the most.”

He looked down at me as if seeing me for the first time. I don’t know maybe he was seeing me, the real me for the very first time. Or maybe he realized he didn’t know me from Eve. Did it matter?

“What is the name of your world?” He asked in earnest.

“Earth.”

“And the reason you know these things before they happen?”

I shook my head at him, “Spoilers.”

“Elyria,” he had that tone. The frustrated one Aedan used to have when I wouldn’t share.

“No,” I snapped at him, “no one, ever, should know that much. Knowledge is power Garrett. With power comes responsibility. I know I can handle that kind of responsibility, but could you? Honestly? Do you really think if you knew you could stop something horrible from happening you’d be able to stop yourself? Even if you knew it had to happen or terrible things would happen? Could you really restrain yourself?”

His hands clenched and unclenched. Hawke breathed in deeply before blowing it out in a long sigh. “I don’t think so.”

Gently I patted his shoulder, “Let me keep my secrets, you know if it is something dire I’ll always speak up.”

“Unless it has to happen.”

“Mmm, yep.” I expected him to leave, but he didn’t. 

He remained sitting on my bed, thinking to himself whatever thoughts floated through that handsome head of his.

“Do you like girls?”

My non sequitur pulled him back to the present.

Hawke looked down at me, confusion coloring his expression, “What?”

“Rather, women. Do you like them or men?”

His mouth quirked upward, “You’re not my type Elyria.”

Good, but that isn’t what I asked. “So you like guys then?”

“I’m not partial to them, no. Why?”

“So that’s why you didn’t flirt with Fenris.” Huh, interesting. My Hawke was straight. Surprising because I’d designed this Hawke specifically to romance Anders.

I’m not quite sure when Hawke left. I fell asleep before I could ask him more questions.


	14. Part Two, Chapter Three

Chapter 14:

A few days later I was the last person to the front gates. The whole of Kirkwall was flooded with visiting merchants for Wintersend. There were at least a dozen in costume men and women advertising various up and coming plays. Puppet shows filled in the gaps where merchants hadn’t taken up space. It was like Fleet Week, Fashion Week and the Fourth of July all rolled into one. Minus the warmth that is.

Usually Hawke or Bethany came to wake me before we went anywhere. Not that morning. Bethany apparently was sick and stayed in bed. Hawke hadn’t spent his night at home, I could tell. While I’d been working my ass off for the upcoming week long annum celebrations, Hawke had acquired Isabella. He and Isabella were quite, ahem,  _ taken _ with each other. He looked like someone had been running their fingers through his hair all night. She had the ‘I got laid more than once last night’ glow thing going for her.

At six in the morning, albeit two hours after I normally got up for work, I wasn’t ready for that shit. My kingdom for a venti mocha, three shots of espresso please and don’t skimp on the whip. “Yo,” I gave the Kakashi two fingered salute. It was too early to fathom full sentences let alone whole words.

“Look who finally woke up,” Varric jibed, “Pumpkin you look fabulous.”

I leveled him a glare, “You trying to say I look short fat and orange Short Stop?”

Even if he wouldn’t admit it later, I distinctly heard Fenris cover his chuckle with a well timed cough.

Varric had the grace to scowl at me, “You’re just deliberately trying to make my life harder.”

I flipped him the bird.

“Enough of that you two,” Hawke admonished, “Elyria, you look half dead.”

“Is that better or worse than mostly dead?” I received blank expressions in return. My kingdom for someone who could actually laugh at my jokes! “Never mind,” I sighed with disappointment, “see if any of you were from where I’m from, that would have been funny.” Not a rip roaring laugh, but funny enough for a snort or a giggle.

“Hello sweeting,” Isabella hit me with saucy smirk #2.

“Heya.”

“Is that all you have to say to me?” Isabella protested, crossing her arms over her chest. “I went a week out of my way to get you here and all I get when I see you again is a-”

I threw my arms around her, pressing my face into her shoulder, “I missed you Izzy.”

“Well now,” she wrapped her free arm around my shoulders, “that’s more like it.” She kissed my forehead, “how’ve you been sweet?”

“Good,” I told her honestly, “better.”

Isabella gently pinched my cheek, “You look exhausted.”

“How did I know you two would know each other?” Hawke made an exasperated sound.

“Don’t be jealous,” Isabella chided. She squeezed me tight one more time and let me go.

I turned too fast after she released me and stumbled. Ugh god. 

Hawke grabbed my arm. “Are you sure you want to come with us?” He asked with a mild tone of worry in his voice. “You’ve been working a lot, and with all the sleep you missed-” No one could accuse Hawke of not being a nice guy. He was nice to the core, if a bit sarcastic sometimes.

“Yep, I’m sure. Let’s get this party started.” I’ve got a bone to pick with the old woman. At this point she was still the only person in this world to tell me what the hell was going on. Possibly the only one strong enough to send me home, though I doubted she would. Flemeth liked her games and all the pieces on the board. Parting with one might make her a bit tetchy. Terribly bad idea to irritate a woman who could shapeshift into a  _ dragon _ .

Hawke made no move toward the gates.

“Nightmares,” I finally confessed to him in a soft voice. Last night had been bad. They didn’t come as frequently as they did back in Ferelden. They did happen often enough for me to have had them in front of Bethany and Hawke. They knew how violent my thrashing could get. They knew I screamed in my sleep sometimes.

“You’ll be fine?”

“Aren’t I always?”

He looked like he was going to tell me to go home for a second. Then he changed his mind or he realized I’d end up following them anyway. I would have too. “If you slow us down…” he let the implication sink in.

I flipped him off too and started out the gates, “Please. I fought a high dragon with a broken rib and torn ligament. Move your ass Hawke, we’re burning daylight.”

Climbing Sundermount took most of the morning because we had to trek through the snow. In game the landscape around Kirkwall doesn’t change. On the computer/television screen it was perpetually summer. Real life didn’t work like that. The hiking trails leading up the side of the mountain were still thick with snowfall that crunched under our boots as we marched. Arctic winter winds whipped mercilessly at us the further up we got.

As I did any time I ever hiked up a mountain in winter, I listened for the tell tale sound of rushing death. Any faint rumble in the distance meant we might have seconds to run, seconds before we died. I kept an eye on the heavy wall of ice and snow rising above us. I would put money on the idea that Sundermount was an inactive volcano. One day it was gonna go Vesuvius and Pompeii Kirkwall into the ocean.

“Think Broody’s compensating for something with that sword?” Varric’s voice was low next to me. He nodded to Fenris thirty odd feet ahead of us who walked slightly behind Hawke and Isabella.

Nickname assigned already. Damn Varric worked fast.

“It’s not the size, but how you use it that matters.”

The dwarf rolled his eyes, “You wouldn’t say that if you weren’t staring at his ass.”

Say what now? I’d been staring where? Not that it wasn’t a nice view… I caught myself before I actually did begin objectifying Fenris’ hindquarters. Bad Elyria.

“I think you’re imagining things Varric.” I tapped one cheek below my eye, “These babies have been on avalanche watch since we got up here. I don’t want to suffocate and go into hypothermia under a thousand pounds of snow and ice any more than I want to die on some idiot’s blade.”

Varric scoffed at me, “There hasn’t been a recorded avalanche on Sundermount in over a century!”

I winced at the way the wind carried his near shout up into the walls of ice two hundred feet above us. “Keep your voice down dumbass.”

“Ellie, I’m thinking that you think too much. When was the last time you got laid?”

I missed a step, only catching myself by slamming my hand against the rock wall next to me. The thin sheet of ice layering over the heavy granite wet the leather of my gloves making them slide a little as I tried to steady myself. When I managed to balance myself out, Varric stood there looking smug, arms crossed over his – miracle of miracles he covered up – chest.

“My sex life is none of your business!” This time the wind carried my cry of indignation ahead of us right into the three person party ahead of us. My face burned when the three paused, and slowly turned around to face us. I glowered at them all, at Hawke’s carefully schooled expression, and Isabella’s outright snort followed by peals of feminine giggles. I think even Fenris was smiling, though he hid it well.

“Go on, laugh it up all of you,” I growled as I marched past the lot of them, my skin turning fair shades of pink and red that had nothing to do with the cold. “So glad I could be the morning’s entertainment.”

Isabella caught up with me, wrapping one arm around my hunched shoulders, “Cheer up lovely, I know plenty of men who would love to-”

“No.”

She paid me no mind, “shag you six ways to Sunday if you’d like. I know one that-”

“I said no.”

“Likes shorter women, in fact when we-”

“I already said no Isabella, and for your information I am not short!” In comparison to all of them, of course I was short. I’d met a handful of people my height and a great deal of them were elves. Even Fenris was taller than me, standing somewhere around 5’7” or 5’8”. “And for your information, I’m not ready to be involved, whether it’s for a one night stand or a long term relationship. And. You. Know. Why.”

That of all things got her to close her mouth. “I almost forgot. How could I forget that?”

“Because you were too busy thinking about Hawke shagging you sideways and upside down later?”

She paused in the snow for a tick, “Upside down? I might like that.”

“We both might,” Hawke added.

I groaned. “No one wants to know that.”

“I might,” Varric called from behind us.

“Holy Mary mother of  _ God _ ,” I threw my hands up.

Eventually we did reach the spider’s nest, but as it was winter they weren’t there to attack. We’d have to be careful coming back here in the spring. Eventually the spiders wouldn’t be spiders anymore; they’d be highwaymen and mercenaries. From what I remembered of the game the Dalish would be about fifty feet ahead. I felt as if a great big stone started to sink from my throat into my stomach.

I hadn’t been around Dalish since the Brecillian forest. 

“I am not quite sure how this is going to go,” Hawke told us as we hiked. “The Dalish aren’t known for their hospitality to outsiders.”

The elves we helped in the Brecillian forest had been polite enough, but then our party boasted two Grey Wardens bearing treaties. What was the proper greeting again? Mae govanne? No, wait, that was Tolkien elvish. Do you know how many times I’ve seen Lord of the Rings? Shut. Up. In exchange for some of my colored pencils – he thought they were fascinating – Varathorn taught me a few elvish phrases. I wracked my brain trying to remember.

The two Dalish hunters came into view, behind them the red flags of the aravel rose into the sky bending and flapping in the winter winds.

“I got it,” I told him. Okay, here goes nothing.

“What does she mean she’s ‘got’ it?” Varric asked Hawke, or maybe the rest of the group in general.

“With Elyria, I’ve learned to stop asking questions and accept.” Hawke answered.

“Hold shemlen,” the Scottish (or was it Welsh?) sounding hunter began the dialogue.

I cut him off, bowing my head in respect, “Eth enansal falonen.”  _ Safe blessing, friends. _

That knocked him right off his high horse. His chin rose, eyes sizing me up. “Your accent is terrible,” he told me though he sounded a bit friendlier than he did a moment before, “and it should have been, “Eth enansalen falon.”

“Ma abelas,” I apologized, “it has been several months since I’ve spoken the language of the people. Master Varathorn would be ashamed to hear me I’m afraid.”

He exchanged a significant look with the other hunter before saying, “He makes fine dye does he not?”

Really? He was testing me. Pfft, please. “I prefer his Ironbark weapons. He made me a bow so fine I fear using it.” He did. I keep it in my magical Mary Poppins pack, the one Bohdan gave me. Leliana had been trying to teach me how to use it. Thus far I was terrible. One day I’d work on getting better, building muscle memory and all that jazz.

“You aren’t half,” he observed. He took my chin tilting my head to see the side of my face, “your ears are too round. Very rare a human,” see he didn’t call me shem, “bothers to learn about the people. State your business.”

I motioned to Hawke.

They went through the dialogue options. I could practically see the choice wheel pop up between them. Though the two hunters were far more polite. We were permitted past their sentry post to their Keeper.

“Where did you learn elvish?” Varric’s eyes were alight with curiosity. 

I kicked a few pebbles out of my way, “Does it matter?”

“Of course it does!” He said it as if I should have known better than to ask. He was probably writing the story in his head as we spoke.

After contemplating telling him, “Ask me next time I’ve had too much to drink.” Which would never happen. Ever.

Getting to the summoning altar was exactly like on screen. Except, you know, real life. Back in the Circle Tower, these spirits and ghouls scared the shit out of me. A year later they were par for the course. I, unlike everyone else, knew the singular zombie killing rule. In the words of the illustrious (and damn  **fine** ) Daryl Dixon, ‘It’s gotta be the brain.’

Norman Reedus could have me any day of the week.

Merrill said her prayer and bam, there was Flemeth with a rack nicer than mine. Fenris of course hissed the word witch and everyone made their comments as expected. Merrill did her little bow and greeting.

I got fed up, “Yeah, yeah stop kissing her wrinkly old ass.”

Flemeth’s golden gaze cut to me, “Ah…Traveler. You still live. Thought no longer, I see, with the Wardens.” She laughed. Honest to God. A snarky laugh. 

Varric made a sound.

Damn she just had to let the effing cat out of the effing bag. “No. And I want to go home you bat shit crazy broad.” Merrill let out a shocked, horrified sound. “It’s been swell, but the swelling’s gone down.”

A cackle to rival Vincent Price’s (the original king of horror, come on people) came out of her mouth, “Ah, Traveler, you always find ways to amuse me.” She crooked one finger at me, “Come.” Warily I took a handful of steps toward her, diverting to the right to keep an arm length of space between us.

“If you tell me you’re burdened with glorious purpose I swear to baby Jesus I will straight up stab you, no joke.”

She waved her hand toward the landscape visible from our vantage point. “Tell me what you see Traveler?”

“The Free Marches.”

“No, again, tell me.”

Now I was confused. “The world of Thedas?”

“Closer Traveler, closer to the truth. Do you truly not realize?”

I ground my teeth together, “Realize what?! This place isn’t real? Yeah, tell that to the scars I’ve got. To the people I’ve killed. Tell that to these people,” I waved my hand to encompass my friends. “You tell them. They seem to think we’re all living and breathing.”

The cold hearted, manipulative, I’ve-got-more-secrets-under-my-belt-than-the-CIA-and-NSA-combined, Flemeth almost looked as if she felt sorry for me.

I bristled. “Cut the shit. Stop playing the wise old sage here, I want out. I’m done. I can’t take this anymore. I want to go home. I want to eat ice cream and go dancing with friends until all hours of the night. I want to go to Starbucks the night before a final and cram until dawn. I want to celebrate my birthday at home, with my shitty family. I. Want. Out!”

“There is only the way you make Traveler.” She told me cryptically.

_ Bitch. _ My fists clenched at my side, “Fine, go visit your daughter. She’s in Orlais.” I turned my back on her and headed back down the mountain. I didn’t give a shit about anything else the lot of them had to say to one another. I could hear Merrill apologizing for me. I had half a mind to trot back up there and stop her. 

I made my way down the mountain alone, going the long way to avoid anyone catching up with me. The alone time let me think about her question. The Riddler’s riddles were more straightforward than that woman. She may as well have asked me the basic principles of particle physics or microbiology. Want me to sing Queen? Sure, I can recite Bohemian Rhapsody like I was born doing it. Want me to quote Star Wars? Pick a movie and stand back to be amazed by my nerdy knowledge. I could dance the Time Warp like a pro, but I could  _ not _ see what she wanted me to see.

Maybe if I pulled a Sir Peter and used science I could get myself out of here. “Come algebra, anatomy, astronomy, biology, chemistry, geology, geometry, mathematics, meteorology, mineralogy, oceanography, paleontology, physics, psychology, sociology, trigonometry, and zoology!” Nothing. Nada. Niet. Nicht.

Okay…how about, “Light travels at 186,300 miles per second.” I looked up at the sun peeking its way through the clouds, “That’s where you were eight and a half minutes ago!” Nope. “Protons have 1832 times the mass of electrons!” No. “All light is bent or refracted as it goes from one medium to another save in a direction perpendicular to the interface between the two mediums?” Still no.

The snow on the mountain still crunched under my feet as I walked and the sun still beat down on me. The wind whipped at my hair, bound up in a ponytail at the back of my head. Loose snow still danced on the wind above, drifting off into the sky. I wanted to scream.

Instead I threw myself down and for the first time in a long time, I let myself have a good old cry. There were a handful of other things I could have said. Not that they would have worked. Maybe they would. Like no two objects can occupy the same space at the same time. A body in motion tends to stay in motion. The geometrical properties of the space-time continuum are-

“Do you think it wise to walk this mountain alone?” Fenris voice startled me. He sounded slightly annoyed.

Wiping away at my eyes did nothing to stem the flow of tears. The waterworks had been shut down for a while and now that they were allowed to run, they wouldn’t stop. My face was probably blotchy red and my nose had begun to get stuffy from the cold and the crying. I’m not one of those girls who cries and the whole word marvels at how gorgeous she is when she cries. Nope, I cry ugly. I was lucky snot wasn’t running down my face.

“What do you want?” I kept my back to him, willing the stream of tears to shut down.

He walked silently toward me, but stopped a handful of feet away. “The veil is thin here; it is dangerous to travel alone.”

“Please, as if you care. We’ve known each other a week and you barely speak to me. Hell, I made you a batch of brownies and you never even said thank you.”

He made a sound behind me, a quick chortle, again covering it with a cough.

Fuck it; he can see me cry, “What was that? Did you just laugh at me?” I must have been a picture, blotchy face, watery red eyes, nose probably running. A mess.

Fenris didn’t seem perturbed, “If you would like thanks, perhaps a note with your name on it would be in order next time you leave food for someone.” He nodded to me, “My thanks.”

According to Emma, brownies (and pretty much anything heavy with chocolate) go well with wine. I wiped at my cheeks again, “You’re welcome.” A stray wind slapped at us, reminding us we were still standing on a mountain, exposed to the elements. I shivered, “Let’s go before we freeze our asses off.”

Again a nod. Fenris, an elf of few words.

With the peaking of the sun in the sky the snow had begun to melt, making everything slippery. I ended up grabbing the rock face a few times as we headed down the mountain.

“Where are the others?” I asked after we’d been walking a while.

“Hawke deigned to take the cave pass down.” Fenris answered, “They are no doubt waiting for us at the Dalish encampment.”

Right. “Stupid post adolescent hormones,” I muttered under my breath, blaming them for my mood.

Another few minutes past before Fenris said, “You are from another world.” Not a question, a statement. One that lacked a vague sense of accusation or threat considering who was making the observation. I half expected him to make the sign of the cross at me and yell ‘the power of Christ compels you!’ at the top of his lungs.

A long drawn out sigh escaped my lips, “Did the nosey old bat tell you that or did Hawke?”

He made a sound, “Neither. If you were of Thedas, you would return to the place you call home instead of demanding it of a witch.”

I paused, turning around to face him. My heart swelled a little in my chest.

Fenris was a beautiful sight framed by the sun high in the sky. His white hair turned a pale golden shade, bronze skin highlighted with the ever present glow of lyrium. How could anyone have made him a slave? He was too…too…there were a thousand words on the tip of my tongue and none of them did him justice. Beautiful wasn’t adequate enough, stunning lacked the right intensity. There weren’t words.

I looked down and away, confused by the warmth spreading through my veins. “I’m never going to get home. It doesn’t matter. Just…drop it okay?” I turned back around and kept walking. He said nothing else for the rest of the trip.


	15. Part Two, Chapter Four

Chapter 15:

The templars, and Cullen came for Bethany the morning Hawke, Anders, Isabella and Varric returned from the deep roads. I was already at work in the back of the bakery making bread while Nettie tried to teach Bennet how to greet and speak to customers. That is why I didn’t see the templars coming down the street. There were no yells, no shouts for help or at least none that I could hear. To me it felt like an ordinary morning had since I arrived in Kirkwall.

It was Bennet that dodged into the back, his normally average size brown eyes wide with fright.

“What’s wrong?” I asked him while shoveling a pan full of hot cross buns into the oven, “Another extortion attempt?” The last person attempting to extort protection money from Nettie and the bakery met Fenris and me in a back alley the same night. We let him live if only to spread the word that attempting to get money out of Nettie’s bakery would be met with force. Seeing as we hadn’t had a single carta member in the doors since, I assumed the word was sufficiently spread in the dregs of Kirkwall.

What can I say? Fenris really liked Nettie’s bakery. I think most of the time he came for the free food and the motherly fussing over his thinness rather than for the ambiance. He never left without a basket full of yesterday’s goods.

“No, there are templars across the way. At your friend’s home. They went in not a minute ago.”

My apron wouldn’t come off, my fingers fumbled with it before I sliced the strings with a knife and yelled to them both I’d be back. I might not have been though. Not if I killed a templar.

These last two weeks I’d seen Cullen sniffing around the low town market place. The templar loomed like a dark blot on the snowy drifted streets on a daily basis, forcing Bethany and Merrill to stay out of sight. Bethany had been going sir crazy walking back and forth between her home, my flat and the bakery. Leandra hated it, poor Duck looked miserable most of the time and even I was getting a bit antsy with all the templars everywhere.

What would they do to me after finding out I was from another world entirely?

My feet slipped on the icy patch just in front of the stairs.

“Elyria!” Hawke’s voice called from somewhere down the street. Now he returns. Wonderful timing BioWare. “Where is the fire?” The sorry bastard laughed at his joke, as did Varric and Isabella.

“Templars!” I yelled back at him. I didn’t stay to see if his jolly expression fell. The steps were slippery from the hard packed snow. I shoved at the door two, three times before it open, a scowling templar standing in the way.

Cullen stood to the side, indifferent to the presence of a new comer.

I could hear Hawke coming up the stairs.

“What’s going on?” Hawke demanded.

“Please don’t do anything,” Bethany’s soft voice might have been directed at Hawke, or me, or the room in general.

“Mistress Bethany is being taken to the Circle of Magi in the Gallows,” Cullen declared with the utmost certainty.

“A little tour is fine,” Hawke told him, taking a step forward, hand lightly balanced near his weapon, “but this better not be permanent.”

I put one hand on Hawke’s chest, “Don’t.”

“Of course it’s permanent,” Bethany’s tears spilled down her cheeks, “it had to happen eventually, didn’t it?”

“Consider yourselves fortunate,” Cullen warned the room at large, “her cooperation allows us to spare you the punishment for harboring a dangerous mage. This once.”

They engaged in the story dialogue, Leandra speaking, then Bethany assuring her mother she would be fine. Bethany asked Hawke to look after their mother then Cullen began to escort Bethany, Hawke’s sister and my good friend of the last several months out of her own home.

Leandra dropped to her knees weeping.

The rage boiled up inside me. “Cullen,” I called, forcing him to turn and look at me. I walked a handful of steps toward him. “I’m sorry I ever helped save your wretched misbegotten life,” I couldn’t stop it, I knew that. Bethany as a mage would be a far less bitter person than Bethany as a Grey Warden. However, that didn’t mean I couldn’t get in Cullen’s face for it. “I should have put you out of your goddamn misery the moment that barrier came down.”

Brown eyes narrowed on me.

Ooo, I made an enemy.

Honestly, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect when they got back. Would time just skip forward? To answer my own question: Nope. We still had to live our day to day lives. Fabulous. I had a feeling the next six years weren’t going to feel like a hop skip and a jump either.

Varric bought me a round, thumping his pint against mine, “To the only woman I’ve ever met willing to threaten a templar openly.”

I set the foul smelling swill in front of the already somewhat tipsy Isabella. “Please, I’ve punched the King of Ferelden, do you really think that bitch templar scares me?” Try hanging out with an Antivan Crow that likes to throw daggers at people who fall asleep on watch. God I missed Zevran.

“You assaulted the Warden Commander?” Anders asked incredulously.

“I hope I broke his goddamn nose, the bastard.”

Anders nearly dropped his pint, “You made his nose crooked? When he said ‘a woman scorned’ as an answer I thought it was his wife.”

I ruined Aedan’s boyish good looks? Oh, goody. “I’m infamous and didn’t even know it.” I clinked my glass against his pint, “Thanks for the pick me up.”

“Ellie,” Varric declared, “I have a suspicion your tale is a lot more twisted than you’ve lead us to believe. You wouldn’t be willing to let me hear, maybe let me write it down some time, would you?”

I rolled my shoulders, hell I was sitting a table with a pirate. It seemed fitting. “Me, I'm dishonest, and you can always trust a dishonest woman to be dishonest. Honestly, it's the honest ones you have to watch out for.”

Varric’s eyes lit up like the Macy’s Fourth of July fireworks display. “The accent, I have to ask, where are you from?”

87 th Street in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn New York in the United States of America, continental North America, Western Hemisphere, Earth, the Sol Solar System, in the Milky Way. “Second star to the right, straight on till morning.”

“Elyria,” our dwarven friend grumbled.

“I did say I was dishonest Varric.”

“She did,” Anders chimed in.

“Alright,” Varric settled himself back in his cushy seat, we were gathered around his table upstairs rather than a table downstairs. It made it easier for Hawke to drown himself in pint after pint and not get into a fist fight with any bastard too stupid to back the fuck off him. “How did you know to give Bethany the gold for the boat?”

“Tis a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done?”

“You can’t avoid the question forever El,” Varric reminded me.

I smiled at him, “All time is relative.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Isabella said after she finished my pint and hers.

“Time isn’t linear,” dumbfounded expressions all around the table. I groaned. Maybe I should have taken up drinking. I sipped my water. “I mean it isn’t a line. Time is flexible, wibbly wobbly if you will.” Yes I just quoted the Doctor. Shut. Up. “Time is…time is…” how could I put this without going into deep philosophical explanations that they probably wouldn’t understand. Ah fuck it. When in doubt, quote movies with badass killer sharks. “Time works like this; Grab hold of a hot pan, a second can seem like an hour. Put your hands on a hot woman, an hour can seem like a second. It's all relative.”

Isabella wrapped an arm around my shoulder, “Sweeting that has to be one of the dirtiest things I have ever heard come out of your mouth.” For emphasis she pinched my cheek.

“You spoke to the Knight-Captain as if you knew him,” Hawke finally pulled himself out of a pitcher long enough to speak.

“Know him, no. Participated in events that lead to him staying alive, yes.” I tipped my glass at the mage/former warden across the table from me, “Anders can tell you first hand, Cullen was a bit unstable after the Wardens cleared the tower.”

Anders snorted, “A bit? He’d gone completely mad. He had to be sent to the Denerim Chantry because he was making the mages at the tower nervous. He saw demons in everyone, including the tranquil.” The mage shuddered, “He wasn’t the only one, but he was the worst of them.”

“You should have warned me,” Hawke said bitterly.

“I tell you what I can when I can, you know that.”

“If I had known-”

“You would never have left.”

“I would have taken her with me!” He thundered, smashing his pint on the table with enough force to make the wood creak in protest. 

“And she would have died, or Anders would have been forced to find the Grey Wardens down in the tunnels to take her. Doing that would have left her bitter and angry for the rest of her life. At least in the tower she is alive, and she is learning and she will be happier than if she was forced into the Warden’s death sentence of thirty years.”

A pin could have dropped and the sound would have been deafening. I rubbed my eyes suddenly exhausted, “Hawke, please. You know, you know if I told you any of that beforehand you might have made a terrible decision. One you regretted.” The guilty feeling in the pit of my stomach for biting my tongue wouldn’t go away no matter how I tried to tell myself it was probably better this way. For her at least. Bethany as a Warden is a bitter, perpetually angry person. Bethany as a Circle Mage would still be sweet and kind, only with a better education in magic. And, if the world held true, she’d be flirting with Sebastian during the Mark of Assassin quest line.

“But the decision would have been left to Bethany, my mother and I to make. Not you!” He spat in anger.

I pushed out of my seat, “I’m sorry Hawke, I’m sorry you see it that way.” I nodded to the rest of them, “Good night all. I hope eventually I’ll see you again.”

“Much more twisted.” Varric murmured softly as I walked away.

Fenris arrived right at closing, just as he always did. Bootless again, wrapping himself up in an old quilt that looked as if it might have seen better days. I planned for that. Week before last I employed a seamstress to make him a heavy woolen coat lined with goat fur. She finished it this morning, dropping it off for the last half of her payment. It cost enough, seventy silver, but from the workmanship, was worth it. I rubbed the fabric between two fingers marveling at her tiny stitches. 

As usual when my scowling, brooding elven friend arrived Nettie began to fuss. At first my employer had been slightly alarmed by him. Fenris was a hunched in on himself, almost out of place, angry at the world, socially awkward sore thumb. He’d come looking for me, having heard from Varric that I worked in the bakery. I’d actually gone looking for him for help with the Nettie extortion situation, but he hadn’t been home. Eventually I went to Varric to a courier to get the message passed along.

She’d greeted Fenris as pleasantly, called me out of the back to talk to him. Now Nettie didn’t make a distinction in her customers as long as their coin was good. Bennet wasn’t happy about helping elves, but he learned to deal with it or deal with me. After seeing my weapon collection and my ability to wield two knives at once, the elvish people scared him less.

Nettie, like many humans, was not okay with elvish-human relationships. 

Not that Fenris and I were…well, I mean if he asked I might, but…god shut up okay?

After he left the first time Nettie followed me into the back, fists on her ample hips. “Elyria,” she began in her motherly I’m-not-scolding-you-but-I’m-scolding-you tone, “now I’m not one for stepping into the business of others. An’ that boy seems polite enough, but I’m telling you this for your own good. In this city, people aren’t much for the mixing of elves an’ humans, you understand?”

I didn’t get her meaning at the time, “Nettie, people need to drop the racism.”

“It’s just not done Elyria,” she sounded more worried than anything, “things happen to women that fall in love with elves.”

Then I got her meaning. I was sure as hell pissed off, but I got her meaning. “For the love of…Nettie, Fenris and I are  _ friends _ . Nothing more. And even if he was my lover, which he isn’t, who cares? Love is so rare in the world shouldn’t you take it where you find it?”

She looked almost relieved, “I…trust me love, stay friends. It’s better.” She never said why it was better, but I had a good idea. 

Racism and slavery, things of the modern day Thedas. While the slavery was abolished everywhere save the Imperium, racism was abundant and rampant. I tended to ‘accidentally’ knock merchant’s tables to the ground if they refused to sell to elves. If I heard someone use the term ‘knife ear’ somehow they’d end up running home with a couple of broken fingers. I’d give the guards big innocent doe eyes and ask them how anyone my size could hurt someone bigger than me.

I wasn’t a violent person before I came to Thedas, but I was and remained someone who stood up for other people.

The second time Fenris came in it was again on my request. After we beat the hell out of the carta idiot attempting to extort Nettie for money, I told him to come by the shop near closing. When he got there I had him assure Nettie there would be no more demands for money.

She foisted the bread from the day before on him and a few of the pastries. She told him to come back the next day, and every day. He hadn’t of course, not realizing that when Nettie told someone to do something the woman expected them to damn well listen. I was given a basket to deliver to him after work with a verbal scolding which I will not repeat.

Save to say, it involved the words ‘young man’ and ‘you’re not too old for the wooden spoon.’

Fenris, the person who could put his fist through people’s chests and rip out their insides, came back the next day and the next from then on. He even let her fuss at him.

“Too skinny!” Nettie loaded what was left of the black forest bundt cake into a basket, “the both of you are too thin. Couldn’t hit you if I threw rice at you!”

Fenris had the grace to bow his head to hide his silent laughter.

I wiped flour dusted hands on my flour dusted apron. “Nettie…”

“And you!” She turned on me, finger tapping against one hip. “Every single one of my employees has gained five pounds working here since you started. Except. You.” She ticked her finger at me. “This one is for you,” she pulled a basket from under the counter, “Off with the both of you, now. I’m a busy woman. No time for you.”

She shushed us out the front door. Typically I left through the side door.

“Your employer,” Fenris began, “is an interesting woman.”

“Frightening you mean.” Holy hell what did she put in my basket? It was heavier than wet clay bricks.

Ever the gentleman, Fenris alleviated me of the burden. “Do you live far from here?”

I snorted, “Nope. Not too far.”

He motioned for me to lead on. The look on his face when I turned the corner and unlocked the side door to the upstairs apartment was absolutely priceless. He followed me up, holding the baskets sideways so they wouldn’t knock on the stairs. I lit the various candles in their holders around the room for light.

My kingdom for even an oil lamp!

It struck me after Fenris put the baskets on the table that he’d never seen my home before. I had seen his many, many times, but he never came to mine. He turned his head glancing around my flat, taking in the décor and what not. When I told Nettie Fenris and I were friends, it wasn’t entirely true. We spent time with one another when in the company of Hawke, otherwise we rarely saw each other aside from the occasional seeing one another across a street.

I felt a little nervous and blurted, “Want to stay for dinner?”

Very green eyes settled on me, “Elyria…”

“You don’t have to I was just offering.”

“Your face is covered in flour.”

What? I rubbed my wrist across my forehead. It came away with crusty white pieces of flour, “Oh my god. You dick, why didn’t you say something earlier?” I dashed into my bedroom for the water basin and washed my face twice with soap. When I returned to the common room (I got tired of calling it the living/dining room/kitchen), I found Fenris in front of my bookcase.

Strange because he couldn’t read.

“I will stay for dinner,” Fenris told me. He picked up my Kindle from its display place on the shelf, “if you tell me where you obtained this.”

“It’s mine. I bought it back home for a couple hundred dollars, the equivalent of about two sovereigns. The batteries ran out a long time ago. I probably should just get rid of it, seeing as I’ll never get home again but, I don’t know. Nostalgia I guess.”

He made a sound at the back of his throat, “I see.”

Curiosity got the better of me, “Why?”

“Danarius,” he mouth contorted in disgust around the name, “owned one similar to it, though lighter in weight and grey. It was badly damaged, he could not use it.”

My knees felt weak, “Wait, wait, rewind. Did you just…” I needed to sit down. I only just managed to get to the makeshift couch – it was actually a wooden bench draped with thickly stuffed pillows stitched into delicately embroidered, tightly woven broadcloth. “Are you saying the magisters had a piece of Earth technology?”

“Many of them,” he assured me, “though most do not work. Some are damaged beyond repair coming through the veil.”

Oh my god. Oh my god. My head started spinning. I put it between my knees, gripping the cloth and bench beneath me for support. Is that how I got through? Was someone out in the Wilds using blood magic to summon something and I popped through? Did someone died for me to be here? I felt sick to my stomach.

A cup of water appeared before me. When had he gone to get that?

I took it anyway, “Thank you.”

“There are a few items in the mansion if you would like to have them. I thought about destroying them, and I might have had they not been from beyond the veil.”

Smart man. “I…uh…I’ll get to making dinner in a minute. Just,” my head still felt spinny. I put the water on the ground and leaned down again, “holy crap.”

Fenris moved away from me, “Forgive me Elyria, I did not mean to upset you.”

“No, no you didn’t. It’s not that. It’s…” wracking my brain for words, “it’s the idea that someone might have killed an innocent person to bring me through. That they might have-” My stomach had enough, I gagged keeping down the vomit. A breath later one of the brown shopping bags I used, an old tatty one I picked up for a few copper during Wintersend appeared in front of me.

I half expected him to say ‘if you’re going to spew, spew into this’ but he didn’t. When I did get sick, and believe me I did until I was choking on bile, Fenris didn’t run. He was probably used to seeing worse. After I assured him I wasn’t going upchuck a lung he went down stairs and threw the bag god knows where.

He came back a few minutes later, made me drink the whole glass of water and eat some of the bread Nettie gave us. “Breathe slowly.”

I gave him a thumbs up, “Right, any other words of wisdom?”

“There is flour in your hair as well.”

I almost flipped him off. “Har, har, you’re so funny I forgot to laugh.” He refilled the water from one of the jars I kept in the larder. I boiled the water I retrieved from the well and then stored it in jars I sealed with wax to keep them fresh. I refuse to get dysentery and shit myself thank you very effing much.

When I looked up at him he was almost smiling. God he really was stunning.

I tried to smile back, but it felt weak and weary. “You know if you smiled more the ladies would swoon over you. You’d be walking over the bodies of women trying to have your babies.”

The corners of his mouth went up even further, “Varric tells me women would have broody babies in my honor.”

“Oh please, no contest. You’re a very attractive person Fenris, you just don’t know it. I bet you don’t look in the mirror.” Normally I would have poked him, but Fenris did not enjoy being touched. It bothered his scars. “Listen, the next time you’re face to face with a woman you think is pretty, smile at her and see what happens.”

One of his dark eyebrows quirked up ward at me, “And what if nothing happens?”

Skeptical bastard. I liked it. “If she doesn’t turn redder than a tomato, I’ll bake you brownies for a whole month.”

“Perhaps I should throw in some cold insolence as well?” Was he laughing? It sounded like he was laughing. “I believe Isabella asked that I smolder and add cold insolence to my ‘routine’

“Izzy likes to guess the color of your underwear too.”

He smiled brilliantly at me, chuckling, “And she assumes I glisten.”

I felt my face turn bright flipping red. Jesus.

Hawke eventually forgave me. It took nearly two weeks, three dozen cheese Danish, and a very long heart to heart, but he forgave me. I felt better, or at least I did until he brought up my growing – ahem – friendship with Fenris. Not necessarily so much of a friendship on my end as it was an ever increasing crush that I couldn’t seem to well, crush. While Fenris and I disagreed on a handful of points (almost all regarding mages), we got along very well.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Fenris,” Hawke didn’t sound accusatory, he sounded observational and curious. Very curious. More than he probably should have been.

Fighting a blush didn’t work, “Yeah, that’s what teammates do right? Hang out together and stuff.”

He chuckled slowly, “Is that what you think?”

I poked him in his side, “Shut up you. We’re just friends.” I didn’t think I could handle a relationship with someone like Fenris, ever. My emotional baggage and his emotional baggage combined would kill anything we started before it had a chance to get going. I was absolutely certain of it. I liked the camaraderie between us too much to let that happen.

Hawke handed me another stack of books to start shelving. The ruling on his family’s ancestral home came down no more than a couple of days ago, thus the previous tenants had moved out. Hawke and his mother, Bohdan, and Sandal moved in. Since the deep roads the two dwarves stuck to Hawke like glue. They took the servants quarters joined to the kitchen on the first floor.

“Are you certain you wouldn’t rather live here?” Hawke asked me while we put the various books he purchased on shelves. “There is room enough.”

“And how would Izzy feel about that?”

He rolled his eyes at me, “Isabella and I have an understanding.”

Yeah tell that to the softness on her face whenever she looked in his general direction. If that wasn’t love I’d eat my boots. “No thank you Garrett.” I liked living in my little flat all by myself.

Hawke shook his head slowly, “I supposed you might want to be,” he chuckled again secretively, “closer to Fenris.”

I chucked a book at his head.

“Now, now, that isn’t how you treat a rich man.” He ticked his finger at me.

“You are such a pain in the ass. I don’t know why I hang out with you.” I slammed a couple of books on a shelf, “If I didn’t like you so much I’d beat you like you’ve never been beaten before.”

He laughed at that, “I think that wouldn’t end well for either of us Elyria.”

No, probably not. “Yeah, well, shut it.”

For a few minutes he did.

“I found a book,” Hawke began again while the fire popped and crackled cheerily behind us.

I gave him the equivalent of a ‘duh’ look, “You realize we’re in your library, don’t you?”

He shot me a dirty glare, “Hilarious. Truly.”

“I live to please.”

“As I was saying,” he pointedly glanced at me to make certain I bit my tongue, “I found a book I thought Fenris would want. I offered it to him, but he told me he never had been taught to read.”

I hoped I didn’t look surprised. I tried schooling my face, but I’m pretty sure I failed. That wasn’t supposed to happen for another three years, not two months after he got home from the deep roads. “That’s terrible.”

“I offered to teach him to read.”

Right, like he was supposed to.

“But I don’t have the time he needs me to devote to it at the moment.”

Ripples. Right effing there. Ripples.

“Oh.” What else could I say? “What does that have to-”

“I’d like you to do it.”

What? Oh my god. No. No, bad idea. Bad idea. Terrible no good very bad idea. “Hawke you know I’m not from here, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

He let out a deep ‘hmm’ sound, “I could ask Anders.”

“No, no you can’t. They’d kill each other.”

Was he smiling? I think he was smiling. “Varric then?”

“And have Fenris read ‘hard in hightown’ or whatever penny dreadful Varric’s filthy mind comes up with?”

Hawke made a face, “Good point, so that leaves…” His eyebrows rose.

“Aveline.”

“Or you, who he visits nearly every single day.”

“He does not!”I protested, “He visits Nettie because she threatened him with a wooden spoon.” Now that I said it out loud it sounded absolutely ridiculous. Fenris, afraid of a little red haired woman with a wooden spoon? That was like saying a volcano was afraid of rain.

“Well then, that’s settled. You’ll be teaching Fenris to read.”

I flipped him the bird.


	16. Part Two, Chapter Five

Chapter 16:

There was a Rangers game in the Garden. The lines were insanity, winding their way down the short stairs on both sides of the plaza, people lined up against the glass, fans with their signed jerseys, families with their kids sporting face paint. Against the wall of the Chase bank inside Madison Square Garden, a huge poster of the Rangers reached from floor to ceiling. Tourists took pictures of themselves in front of it while fans stand by their favorite team members and held out their shirt for the cameras to emphasize the number they support.

Alistair stared up at it in awe. The train scared the crap out of him. He didn’t much like electricity though he was getting more comfortable with it as time wore on. He has started to make friends with the microwave and my iPod dock. Who would have thought Alistair liked ACDC?

It was the first time I took him into Manhattan once we we’d set up in a dinky apartment out on Long Island. Alistair in his plain white t-shirt and jeans almost looked the part of the all American boy, right down to the farm fresh expression on his face. He’d gotten used to the quiet suburbs over the summer with the slow rolling Mister Softee truck passing our place by, the kids, the dogs, the cats and friendly neighbors who said hello to us in the morning. We celebrated Memorial Day cheering at the Blue Angels doing their tricks over Jones Beach and Fourth of July setting off ground fireworks that sparkled bright as the magic we left behind in Thedas.

Cabs honked at one another out on the street while New Yorkers like me weaved around tourists stopping inconsiderately in the middle of the pavement to snap memorial pictures of their first time in NYC. The lights, the sounds, they were home to me and I wanted them to be something to get used to for the both of my guys.

Fenris on the other hand glared darkly at anyone too near his personal space bubble. He wore my old Nirvana (I might be young, but I was still born in the nineties) t-shirt, a pair of black jeans, dark blue Chuck Taylors and his perpetual broody scowl. He didn’t fool either of us. Fenris had begun to acclimate to life here in my world faster than Alistair. He walked himself to the library the other day to get a library card now that he no longer had access to Hawke’s extensive collection of books.

They were both completely oblivious to the women eyeing them.

I didn’t know if I should find that funny or alarming that they could be so unconscious to the idea they were both good looking men. With all the modernized body modifications my fellow nerds went for no one would ever be able to tell Fenris was a real life elf stepped out of the computer screen and into the world. They were just two very, very good looking men hanging out in the city.

My deep green skirt swished against my legs kicked up by the warm summer winds blowing into the hallway of the Garden. I don’t wear jeans much anymore. My life in Thedas gave me a new appreciation for my toned, tanned legs and just like Leliana, I liked pretty shoes. My flats were sparkly black, like the night sky, and I wore a black and white polka dot tank top that made my boobs look amazing. I could smell my suntan lotion, the faint scent of my deodorant and hair product. My hair was longer than it had ever been, a long fishtail braid reaching my waist though it was back to the beachy blonde it had been when I first left my world.

“Are you sure we can’t still go to the beach?” Alistair said in uncertainty as we descended the tanned stone and rustic brick steps. He’d been nervous about my world, his new world and leaving the comforts of our suburban apartment.

“Nope. You two wanted to see the city, no going back now.” I paid fifty four dollars (fucking MTA) to get us from our new town to Manhattan, I sure as hell wasn’t going to let him pussy out and hole up back home. “We’ve gotta get Metrocards, I’m not paying for a taxi. Fenris,” I began but he was looking up.

They both were.

Didn’t matter how long I’d been gone, Manhattan and her skyscrapers were nothing of note to me. I backed the boys out of the path of foot traffic, then let them stare open mouthed at the world around them. Denerim, Kirkwall, hell even Orlais had  _ nothing _ on this town. Need coffee at two twenty in the morning? There’s a place open. Can’t find an outfit for your office party at nine pm? There’s a place open. Need to fill that craving for a Salisbury steak, all the fixings at three in the afternoon? There’s a place open. 

This city  _ never _ sleeps.

I missed it like crazy.

I waited a good three or four minutes for them to absorb the usual shock and awe of the NYC skyline from their vantage point on the ground.

“Feeling small and insignificant yet?” I asked when my iPhone rolled around to the five minute mark.

“Yes,” Alistair answered at the same time Fenris replied, “Perhaps.”

At least they were honest.

The world bustled around us while I tried to weave them through the foot traffic. Like any good guide, I was taking them to the Empire State building first, then the Natural History Museum and the-

People were pushing hard to get past. The street seemed to teem with a throng of people going this way and that. I was having a hard time holding on to both Alistair and Fenris. I didn’t want to let either of them go but the people kept shoving and pushing. I didn’t have a choice. I’d been holding on to Alistair’s arm tightly, but my grip on Fenris loosened to the point that I was barely catching his shirt.

“No!” I clutched at his arm desperately trying to hang on. Alistair’s arm went loose in my hand, his warm bicep slipping away the tighter I held on to Fenris. I yelled Alistair’s name right before he disappeared into the crowd.

I woke sweating and disoriented to a hand gently shaking me awake. Immediately my hand went to the hilt of my dagger under my bed roll. Except I wasn’t on my bedroll, I was on a hard cot with thin straw stuffed mattress under me and a pillow that smelled a little like sheep’s bottom.

“Elyria,” a tired voice, familiar as it was comforting called my name.

Breathing out, “Sorry Anders, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

The mage gave me a patient, friendly smile, “You helped me a lot today, thank you.”

My eyelids drooped a little. “No biggie,” I told him, getting to my feet and finding they didn’t want to hold me up. Anders’ clinic helped the needy, the poor and those that could turn nowhere else and to no one else. Recently I’d begun lending a hand to him in the evenings after work.

After Fenris stopped coming by.

Even in my sleep addled state I couldn’t fight the rising color on my face. It was mostly my fault. I say mostly because some of it was his fault. Not all of it, but about ninety percent was me and eight percent his, the rest I chalked up to Life, The Universe and Everything. Eight percent was being conservative though, because, well, he’s the one that kissed me.

Ever since the spring storms hit Kirkwall and the flooding started (seriously, dark town was suffering with at least six to eight inches of sea water under foot every fricken day). I started making him dinner which he ate at my house while he learned to read. Fenris learned the alphabet quickly enough and started with simple children’s books to help him understand words, their meanings and context uses. One night, a couple of weeks ago he stayed over.

Not in that sense, get your mind out of the gutter pervert.

It had gotten too dark while we worked and the fog rolling in from the bay was so dense it made it nearly impossible to see anything more than a handful of feet in front of your face. Walking home in the fog didn’t appeal to him any more than it did to any of the other poor souls unfortunate enough to be too far from a friend or home to have somewhere to stay. He took the proffered room at my insistence.

At some point in the night I had a nightmare. A violent one that had me thrashing and screaming in my sleep. Fenris woke me, pulling me out of the grips of phantom hurlock hands and wiping away the vile, bitterly sour taste of darkspawn blood in my mouth. In my dreams we hadn’t won the fight down in the deep roads, the brood mother did. She won, and all of my friends were dead. The darkspawn kept me, just like the kept Branka’s house members. In the way dreams are, I saw myself with discolored cloudy eyes and bruised blotchy skin turning purple and losing myself to the cannibalistic taint.

I hugged him, my befuddled brain forgetting his aversion to being touched in favor of cementing this reality and not the dream world I’d been lost in. “Tell me we’re in Kirkwall,” I begged against his clothed shoulder in a muffled sob of abject terror.

Fenris went still, not frozen so much as his muscles held out in pensive suspension before he gingerly touched my back with the flat of his palm, “We are.” He glowed faintly in the dark, silver-blue swirls of bright magic lighting up the handful of feet around us.

Finally sleep fell away from me while my heart calmed its frantic adrenaline pumped beating in my chest. Realization that Fenris glowing meant anger or pain made me pull away fast, mentally berating myself for not thinking before I touched him without his consent. I drew in a shuddering breath, “I’m sorry.”

His brow creased deeply in concern, or maybe confusion, “What for? We all know of your nightmares, they are nothing to be ashamed of.”

It wasn’t the first time someone had woken me from screaming night terrors. “I’m sorry for touching you,” I clarified, giving him a brief guilty grimace. “I know you don’t like being touched; I know it bothers your scars. I just…” needed to touch someone. It had been so long since someone wrapped their arms around me and told me it would be alright. I longed for the feeling of being touched by another person, so much so that I managed to forget the one person who couldn’t stand being touched was the one who woke me.

I drew in a deep breath, but closing my eyes to clear my mind made things worse. Behind my eyelids were visions of my dream bright and clear and horrifying in ways I could not express. My whole body shuddered, tears sprung to my eyes and my fists clenched involuntarily around the sheets.

“Elyria,” his sharp, almost reproachful voice pulled me back toward reality.

My eyes snapped open, tears running down my face, “Do you know what happens to women who are fed too much darkspawn blood?” One of my hands flexed, clenching and unclenching around the blanket. I didn’t wait for him to answer, I don’t think I could have. I could see it all in my head playing out like a train wreck.

“They feed her and feed her until her body swells. Her skin changes colors to bruised and bloated purple. She becomes this thing with no thought besides eating and killing and breeding.” A wrenching sob escaped my lips, my whole body shaking with cold and terror. “All I could think of after we left the deep roads were all of those women that had gone missing. All of the women and children whose families would never know what happened to them. Sometimes,” my nails bit into the blankets, threatening to tear and rip them, “sometimes I dream that we didn’t kill the broodmother in the deep roads. Sometimes I dream they killed everyone but me and-”

And he kissed me. He pressed his mouth to mine, either to silence me or calm me or god knows why. Fenris kissed me like a drowning man kisses the earth once he’s safe on land once more. He smelled like sweet honeysuckles, warm spiced wine and something metallic underneath. One of his hands came up to frame my face, to stroke my neck while his other arm went around my body and pulled me against him.

One kiss lead to another, and another until we were a tangle of limbs trying to pull one another impossibly closer, unable to get enough in just those heady kisses. The entirety of my body felt alive and tingly while in my chest my heart beat out a heavy bass laden drum beat. Never, ever in my life had I been kissed the way Fenris kissed me then. I never wanted it to stop. I could have clung to him and been with him and only him for the rest of eternity if that was what he wanted from me.

In an instant it was over, his hands on my shoulders pushing me away while his body glowed a bright blue-white in the darkness of my bedroom. He cursed colorfully in Arcarnum stalking away from the bed, dragging one hand through his snowy white hair with a frustrated sound. He didn’t look at me; he didn’t turn toward me at all. He glared at the far wall of my bedroom with a look that would have withered any living thing in his path.

Confusion slipped into the desire, arousal and – no, no I wasn’t going there. I wouldn’t go there. I couldn’t go there. Not again, not after the last time. A nagging sensation in the back of my mind, a silky soft voice that sounded much too much like my own reminded me that I didn’t have a choice. The heart wants what the heart wants and my heart had been curiously paying attention to him for a long, long time.

His shoulders were tense, his whole posture positively threatening violence. Fenris should have scared me. I say should have because he didn’t. He wasn’t going to hurt me. I knew that as surely as I knew tomorrow would bring more rain.

The stone floor was cool under my feet when I slipped out of bed and moved toward him. I made certain not to touch him, not to press his boundaries or invade his personal space. In slowly careful, deliberate movements I moved between him and the wall. He’d closed his eyes at some point, his brow drawn down in anger or distress. Both perhaps.

“Fenris,” I whispered his name like I would have a prayer in church as a child.

His eyes didn’t open. Instead he spoke with such loathing, such disgust in his voice my heart wrenched and shattered just hearing him. “Leave me be!” He stalked from the room; presumably back to the guest room to gather his things.

I don’t know. I don’t know because I’d slumped to my knees, my nightgown pooling around me while I cried.

Anders, ever the gentleman, walked with me to the Hanged Man where we were supposed to meet Hawke and the others – and Fenris too maybe, I hadn’t seen him since – for a few rounds of Wicked Grace and good times. Aveline was even supposed to join us on her night off. We bypassed my apartment, our feet making splashing sounds in the couple of inches of water that had flooded down the stairs from the high town marketplace. Down here it flooded too, just not quite as badly as it did in dark town.

With the wet and the season change came spring colds, and what I suspected was bronchitis, a few cases of strep throat and a whole lot of pregnancies. Half the women we saw were at least a month along if not more. Who says Cloudreach showers bring Bloomingtide flowers? Seemed to be in nine or so months Kirkwall would have a boom in the population growth department.

Just in time for winter.

We hooked a left like always, coming around the bend in time to see Hawke and Isabella hoisting a drunk, dirty and possibly homeless man out of the Hanged Man’s entryway. The man muttered something under his breath in slurred, nearly guttural tones. The stink of body ordure, sour ale and vomit surrounded him. He held an empty tankard loosely in one hand, the other shoved weakly at Hawke’s shoulder trying to push away and get free.

“I was,” the drunk complained in a bitter, angry whine, “I was!”

They settled him away from the door, Isabella even flipped him a couple of coppers.

“Poor sod,” Anders made a pitying sound while we passed the drunk. The mage held the door for me, “What did he say he was?”

Hawke chuckled, shaking his head, “Nothing.”

Isabella elbowed him, “Not nothing. Go on, tell them.” One corner of her mouth turned upward in a smirk, “You’ll love it.”

One of Anders’ eyebrows ticked up at Hawke.

Hawke sighed, “Oh alright.” He waved us on toward the table where Varric and Merrill already sat. The dwarf looked as if he were trying to explain the game to her while she showed absolutely no sign of understanding the rules whatsoever. Aveline held a full tankard in one hand, the other hand waved toward us.

Blessedly Fenris was absent.

Anders laughed, “Really?”

Isabella’s eyes rolled, “Really.”

I guess I missed it. “Sorry, what?”

Hawke put his arm lightly around my shoulder, “It’s nothing.”

The mage took a seat beside me at the table, “He honestly thinks that?”

“Why not? Some of my men would get that way when they were pissed,” Isabella took her seat in Hawke’s lap. Yes, in his lap. “They’d say they were kings of made up lands and places that disappeared a long time ago. One insisted he was a princess, he put on a skirt and danced the remigold for us to prove it. Next day he couldn’t remember a thing.”

Varric sighed a deeply bored sound, “Don’t tell me you’re talking about the drunk they kicked out of here.”

“Poor man,” Merrill said softly, her eyes sad for him.

“He’s outside,” Anders informed him, “telling anyone and everyone he’s a prince. He might be something, though, I sensed him. Another grey-”

I didn’t stay to find out. I was running back toward the entrance and shoving past a bemused Fenris who’d been coming through the door. “God damn it, move!” I yelled, pushing the elf to the side and praying to any god listening that the drunken man was still outside. I found him tipped over, his forehead resting on the ground, hair soaked with the muddy low town water, his nose and mouth dangerously close to the two inches of water. 

Another part of me, a quiet voice in the back of my mind reminded me that this wasn’t supposed to happen yet. This was supposed to happen in Act Three. We were two years from Act Two at this point. Except…here he was my best friend Alistair, cold, wet, drunk, dirty and foul smelling sitting in the muddy water of low town.

I had to pull him up by his collar, he wouldn’t sit up, I held him there with one hand and with the other I slapped his sleeping face hard. His light snoring stopped, green-gold eyes opening sleepily.

The shadow of recognition passed behind his eyes, “lyria?”

“Morning sunshine.”

Alistair gave me a lopsided, drunken grin which dissolved in seconds to a deep, dark expression of self loathing. He shoved me away, “Leave me alone. Not her.”

There were feet splashing their way toward us from the Hanged Man’s front door.

“You’re not here!” my best friend shouted in an angry, slurred voice. “She chose him, she chose him.” His voice broke off as he swung the tankard up to his mouth, found it empty and blasphemed Andraste’s name under his breath. “Some friend. She was my friend.”

He passed out again.

I didn’t know whether to cry or to slap him again. I settled for a little of both. “Help me,” I said to Hawke who had come outside to see why I’d run out. We managed to pull him up, but he was heavy. Alistair was tall and broad, he had always been and he was too heavy for me to carry even with Hawke’s help.

“Allow me,” Anders stepped in, pulling Alistair’s arm over his shoulder.

Ripples, ripples everywhere.

And this time I wasn’t sorry.


	17. Part Two, Chapter Six

Chapter 17: 

Personally I think it took balls for me to show up at Fenris’ door, reading books in hand, my spine ramrod straight and my heart pounding. I fully expected him to turn me around with a frosty glare and a thrown bottle of wine at the wall. He wouldn’t hurt me, he wasn’t that person but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to scare me away with brute antics. Three months, a couple of weeks and a handful of days we pretty much avoided one another aside from social situations. Then Hawke, smarmy bastard, asked Fenris and me how the reading lessons were going.

Another rowdy night at the Hanged Man, Varric telling some tale to a pretty pair of dwarven ladies stopped in Kirkwall for a week or two. Alistair sat beside me drinking enough to make Tony Stark say ‘dude, slow down.’ The elf had looked at me and I had met his eyes with a look of my own. I could read the uncertainty in him because it echoed inside me. 

What were we supposed to say? He kissed me? I kissed him back? We’re both too fucked up emotionally to deal with a relationship deeper than friendship so we were avoiding each other? Our mutual attraction could end up causing some serious problems with the group cohesive? 

“Fine,” Fenris lied with the ease only a one syllable word can give.

Hawke’s gaze slid to me. 

Couldn’t be easy, could it? He couldn’t just take Fenris at his word, could he? Pain in the ass. Why was I friends with these people again? Oh wait, that’s right, I had no other choice. Either I befriended the main characters or I got left in the proverbial dust.

Back to the story at hand.

“He’s a good student,” the lie tripped off my tongue with the same tone I used to assure my econ professor that I hadn’t skipped his class because I was catching up on sleep after seeing the midnight showing of Thor: The Dark World or The Hunger Games two weeks later.

I thought I made it abundantly clear; I am and always will be a nerd.

Hawke didn’t let on whether he believed either of us or not.

Eventually the guilt of lying to him got to me. And…Nettie. For someone who had warned me, repeatedly mind you, that bad things happened to human women who got themselves involved with elven men Nettie was surprisingly passive aggressive about the whole thing. She remarked steadily, day after bleeding day about Fenris no longer showing up to take the stale food off her hands. Recently I had begun taking the food to feed Alistair who, after three months of being in Kirkwall, was showing no signs of giving up the drink and getting on with his life – or getting a job.

She went on and on about that nice elven boy, the one with the white hair. He seemed a bit lonely and it was a shame he didn’t come by anymore. Did we have a falling out? A lovers’ quarrel?

I swear to the pastafarian in the sky I nearly choked to death on a cinnamon sugar muffin when she said that. Her nephew smacked my back a handful of times to make sure I swallowed right before I practically yelled:

“Nettie!”

She ho-hummed to herself, going about stirring the brownie batter without looking at me, “you don’t have to tell old Nettie if you don’t want to love. I understand, these things can be difficult. Matters of the heart always are.”

Matters of the heart.

A lover’s quarrel.

Holy spaghetti monster. I had begun trying to think of a way to clearly state, in as few words as possible that Fenris and I…well, no actually I wanted to tell her there was no Fenris and me. We were not an item, we never had been and…

“That boy Alistair,” she made a clucking sound of disapproval with her tongue. “Is that why you and your elf are fighting?”

Al being my new roomie made the rounds on local gossip. There were rumors floating around that he might actually be a prince – a lot of refugees in low town still had family members living in Ferelden who had heard of King Marric’s bastard – while there were still more rumors that he was my lover and we were living in sin. Not in this world or my own could people mind their own damn business. Nor did it help that when Al had a little too much to drink he’d start shooting his mouth off. Sometimes lamenting being a traitor (he missed the Wardens more than he let on, they were his family) and sometimes he hung his head in shame muttering about Duncan.

There were other times when he had bitter moments. He would talk about Aedan and Anora and how they allowed Loghain to become a hero. Those were the times I worried most about him, because the man I’d fought beside for nearly half a year disappeared into the void of darkness growing inside Alistair. My best friend who had been so goofy and fun loving, yet sweet, kind and boyishly faithful in his ideas of right and wrong.

These were the kinds of ripples I didn’t want to cause when I got here. This is why I stayed away from changing the story. Still the world changed around me without my consent or active participation. Trying to get by as an NPC didn’t seem to do much good.

Nettie was still going on about her not being truly certain Alistair was a good choice for me. He seemed disturbed to her. Scarred.

She had no idea. Really.

I untied my apron, “I’m going home now Nettie.”

It was still early morning; there were only handfuls of people on the street. The clock tower chimed six not too long ago. Most people would be getting up to head to work. Normally I wouldn’t leave until almost noon, but I’d had enough for one day. I would lose out on pay but I wasn’t going to stay and listen to her harp on my best friend or imply I had a relationship with Fenris that had been broken up by my best friend.

My life, my love life and lack thereof was no one’s to discuss.

Nettie, upon realizing she’d offended me, set her brownie mix down. She put her hands on my shoulders – even she was taller than me if only by a couple of inches – and said, “I don’t mean to upset you love. I don’t, truly. I worry for you, that’s all.”

I let my anger get the better of me, “You’re not my mother.”

She withdrew like I’d smacked her. I felt like crap immediately.

“I’m sorry Nettie,” I tried to smile but it fell flat and grim. “I don’t mean to sound awful or ungrateful. I know you’ve done a lot for me but please, my life is complicated as it stands. I can’t handle any more being thrown my way, even if it is advice from someone with more experience.” My tongue wasn’t silver enough to soothe the feathers I’d ruffled, but she let me go with a gentle pat and assurance I’d still get paid for the day.

Didn’t make me feel any less like a bitch.

Returning upstairs I found Alistair snoring off another hang over on the kitchen table. Maybe it was the fight with Nettie, or maybe me seeing him like that for the umpteenth time in the last three months was the proverbial straw on this camel’s back. Maybe it was the drool puddle on table. Either way, I had had enough.

I marched over to the larder, drew out two jars of water, opened them and promptly dumped them over his head. He launched up from his chair with a shout, his hand going to his waist for a sword he no longer carried. His bloodshot eyes assessed the room for dangers and found only me, with two empty glass jars and what I hoped was a pointedly pissed off look.

“Morning Starshine,” there was a lot of venom in my tone, and it bubbled with anger under my skin.

Semi-sober, Al was still Al. This was my friend, not the moody drunk from Act 3 who came to Kirkwall early because of me. “Elyria,” he winced, rubbing his neck and squinted his eyes, “what time is it?”

“After six,” I replied testily.

He groaned, “I could have slept another few hours. Why did you do that?”

“Because I’m sick of you being drunk all the time!” Whoop, there it is. I slammed both jars down on the table. By some miracle, they didn’t shatter and slice up my hands or his face. “No more Al, no more. I can’t deal with you being this moody, mouthy drunk that Varric protects for me.” 

The dwarf had hid the knowledge he’d been paying people to keep Al from overdoing it, or getting into fights for nearly the full three months. I would never have known if Merrill hadn’t blurted it out while observing Alistair tossing his cookies in an alley. And Varric did it all because he knew if Al got hurt, I was the one picking up the pieces.

See that? That is a friend.

“No more drinking.”

Alistair scowled at me, an ugly, dark scowl that distorted his face making him look like someone I didn’t know. “You’re not my commander.”

“No,” I said, “no I’m not Duncan, but then Duncan isn’t here. I am. If he were the one watching you drown yourself in drink, what would he think? What would he say? If it were him standing here and not me, what would Duncan do?”

That seemed to sober him a little, he bowed his head, “Ellie…”

“No, don’t. Go sleep it off in your room, and when you wake up later today is going to be the first day without a drink. Tomorrow will be day two and on from there. No more drinking Al. I don’t like who you are when you’re drunk, you scare me sometimes.”

He dropped back into the seat, glaring at the hardwood table, “I don’t like being sober. I have to remember and I don’t want to. I want to forget. Forget about  _ him _ and forget about  _ her _ . I should have-” He shook his head, looking dejected, “doesn’t matter now.”

I wanted to hug him, but I wasn’t bending on this. If I hugged him I might bend. “No more drinking Al, I mean it. You’re going to find a job, or start working with Hawke or Anders and you’re going to stop drinking. I don’t want a drunk living in my home. I love you,” I told him, “but I can’t let you stay here with me if you’re not going to spend every red cent on drink.”

“You love me?” He sounded as if he’d never heard those words from anyone before. Maybe he hadn’t. He probably hadn’t.

“Of course I do, but I don’t like who you are when you drink.”

Alistair seemed to consider this for several long moments. Outside the birds that made nests under overhanging roofs began to sing their morning songs. The hustle and bustle of low town began to pick up. I waited for my best friend to work his way through the mire of his thoughts. His hazel eyes were cloudy for a while with whatever it was he had been mulling over in his head. He stared long and hard at the bowl of oranges on the table in front of him.

“Ellie,” his voice was slow, careful, “would you make me leave if I don’t stop?”

My chest squeezed, but I nodded.

He stood up, moving around the table until he stood in front of me. Al was bigger than me, broader and taller and stronger. He could have hurt me with his bare hands before I could get to my blades if he wanted to. I trusted that he wouldn’t, because he was my best friend and I didn’t think he could do that to me. After a silent, awkward moment he leaned down and hugged me tight.

As if my day hadn’t been going well enough, I decided to throw caution to the wind and face Fenris. Armed with books of course, under the pretext of trying to be friends again or whatever we could be without crossing that line into whatever was there between us. My stomach did jumping back flips while filled with irate, madly fluttering butterflies.

Could have just been nerves.

Either way I walked into the foyer to the ever present mess that Fenris’ purloined mansion had become. If this place was supposed to fall apart more over the next six years I didn’t know how it was supposed to do it. Lack of maintenance for last few months had made it considerably shabby and unkempt as was. If the roof decided to fall on my head while I picked my way through the mess the mansion had become I would be very, very put out.

And probably dead.

From the stairs I could smell the faint aroma of food. Not pleasant, but not entirely unpleasant either. Bland, if there were a word for it at all. No spices or additives like onions, garlic or black pepper just something with meat and broth and not much else. The staples of the poor person’s diet in a world like this.

Distracted from my thought process, I tripped and dropped a book on the dusty granite floor. It hit with a resounding smack-thud. My shoulders hunched of their own accord and I winced. Well if he hadn’t known I was here before he sure as hell did after  _ that _ . Some warrior huh? There’s a reason I’m not a rogue.

The inner door that led to the study where Fenris received everyone opened with a creaky yank. He did not look pleased to see me. His brow set in a deep furrow, mouth flat with the slightest turn down. “Elyria,” he said my name like it might blight him for uttering the syllables.

Suck it up woman, I told myself and held out the pile in my hands. There was at least ten feet of space between us. “I thought maybe you might want these.”

His green eyed gaze flickered from my face to the books and back again.

“They’re your reading materials.”

“I know what they are,” he replied tersely. He made no move to take them from me, instead watching me carefully as if he were trying to assess whether I’d jump him or not.

Bristling, I wanted to yell at him. 

I wasn’t the one who stuck my tongue in his mouth first okay? I distinctly remembered a hand kneading one of my breasts (under my nightshirt mind you) and moaning about it only to have him slip me…no you know what it didn’t matter. We were both too fucked up emotionally to deal with this shit, him more so than me. Hell if I were Hawke this wouldn’t have happened for another two years and then Fenris would have bailed for an additional three years.

Three months and a cold shoulder shouldn’t have bothered me. Shouldn’t have at all.

“We can’t keep ignoring each other’s presence, okay? We’re supposed to watch each other’s backs and we’re friends. Or at least we were.” Walking forward a handful of steps, “So take these and practice your reading, okay?”

He made no move to come get them. Fenris turned his face away from me, looking back into the room behind him at or for something.

I sighed and set the books down between us, “Look-”

“I have not been ignoring you.” Fenris said it so bluntly, not meeting my eyes so much as he should have been.

Yeah, I call shenanigans on that shit. Biting the inside of my cheek to keep from yelling at him, “Right. Anyway, you were working on the second book, we were four pages in. And Nettie keeps asking after you, so do her a favor and drop in some time. Otherwise, see you around.” Cue anticlimactic exit.

The sound of my name coming from him just made it worse for me. It took all I had to keep my shoulders straight and keep picking my way over debris. I would not turn around, I would not turn around.

“Elyria,” for someone who insisted he wasn’t a wolf, Fenris managed a growl well enough. He was cursing in Arcarnum again, it shouldn’t have been sexy but it was damn it.

Nope. Wasn’t going to give in and turn around and go back. Don’t care.

Didn’t have to.

Fenris had mastered the ability to move quietly and he used it to his advantage. He caught my elbow in his hand and pulled me around to face him. Fenris, unlike everyone else (save Zev) wasn’t ridiculously taller than me. He was 5’7” or 5’8” tall without being mountainous tall. He glowered at me, his tattoos faintly glowing. “Elyria,” he repeated my name and it still sounded much too good coming from him. “I said, I am not ignoring you. I would prefer that you would not ignore me either.”

Oh bullshit. Yanking my arm from his grip, “Right, and next you’re going to tell me the Fifty Shades isn’t based on Twilight.”

Fenris, like any other person who wasn’t from my world, said, “Who?”

I would give anything,  **anything** for someone to get my references just once. “Oh for the love of…never mind, what do you want Fenris?” My brain took that moment to point out he was much too close for comfort. My heart fluttered double time.

In the romance novels it goes like this, it does. I’ve read enough of them to know – I was a lonely nerdy teenager who spent too much time in the romantic fiction section of the library. Next he’d touch me again, apologize, pull me in and kiss me senseless. Then we’d make mad passionate love on the marble floors and spend the night reminiscing about how we were so stupid and so much in love and crazy for fighting it when giving in felt so damn good.

I would be a liar if I said I didn’t want that. I did, most women did but this wasn’t a love story. 

“I would prefer if you would continue to teach me to read.”

There were a lot of things he could have said like apologizing for kissing me or apologizing for taking liberties with me. Apologizing for being a dick in general would have been a good start. None of what he said sounded like an apology.

I crossed my arms over my chest and like Lynyrd Skynyrd, took three steps toward the door. Facing him of course. I was lucky I didn’t trip and fall on my ass. “No.”

He didn’t ask why. He didn’t ask why not. Instead Fenris closed the gap between us with a couple of strides and said, “Wait here.” He went toward another room, no door it looked like a study or library or something.

Wait, what? Why was I waiting? I didn’t owe him anything. Still my feet didn’t move.

“Fenris,” I called after him, “what are you-”

He reemerged from the study with (holy baby spaghetti monster on steroids) a bright blue iPod dock, a pair of busted up aviators, a completely unopened bottle of Tylenol 3 – I pitied the person who lost that, it’s good to have around when you’re in serious pain – all wrapped in a dusty burgundy scarf sporting Celtic knots in sporadic white patterns all over the material. He gave over his goods.

Okay, as far as – wordless – apologies went, that was pretty good. Especially the iPod dock. I had one just like it at home, except purple to go with my iPod. Cliché as it might have been, the way to a woman’s heart is to give her stuff. He gave me stuff from my world and my icy heart melted like Frosty the Snowman on that fine spring day.

“Oh alright,” I lamented, “fine. I’ll go back to teaching you. On one condition, you start dropping by to see Nettie more often.”

His head bobbed, “I will.”

“Right, okay then.”

We were still looking at each other, a handful of feet between us. The tension was palpable, and I wasn’t dreaming the way his green eyes flickered down from my eyes to my lips before returning to meet my gaze. I wanted to drop the items in my arms and yank him down for a good old fashioned make out session. Complete with losing his spiky armor and most of my clothing. Maybe he thought the same thing because he shuffled his feet, his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

Ah god. No. No. We weren’t doing this.

“Thanks,” I took another three steps back, turned round and walked out of the mansion hoping he wouldn’t follow me.

At some point in the middle of the night I woke up. Typical, if I were having a nightmare but no, as I thought back about my dream featuring horses running next to a river flowing the opposite direction, I tried to figure out why I’d woken up. The horses had been decidedly non-threatening. There were mountains in the distance, and a wide open field stretched out on either side of the river. The setting had been peaceful. So why-

Heavy footsteps crossed over the creaky boards in the common room, a moment later the sound of the windows being opened in succession. All followed by the sound of Alistair nearly yelling, “Andraste’s frilly knickers!”

I groaned quietly into my pillow. He was drying out.

The night was cool for summer, the crickets sounding lazily outside. I trudged out of my bedroom and into the common room to find him hanging his head out the window taking deep, deep breaths.

I grabbed a jar from the larder, “Al, come here a sec.”

He made a terrible sound of agony, “Ellie, just let me die.”

“You’re not going to die,” the little white Tylenol stood out starkly in the low light from the candles. “Here,” I walked to him and held out the pill with the water. “Take it. You need to rehydrate and this will help the pain.”

Probably shouldn’t have been giving him drugs but I didn’t have anything else and drying out could be horrible. I helped Cody with it once a long time ago. We went into the Adirondacks at the beginning of spring vacation and came back the evening before Easter. The difference being that Cody had been addicted to Vicodin and Al was coming off the sauce. Drugs wouldn’t impede Alistair’s recovery so much as soften it a bit.

He took the proffered pill and drank down the entire jar.

Alistair groaned again, curling up on the floor holding his stomach and head, alternating between the two. I sat with him rubbing his back, humming softly while he rocked. Eventually the codeine kicked in and Al managed to get up off the floor and back into bed. He stretched out, moving as if every muscle ached and hurt. Cody had moved much the same way back when. Al breathed in and out deeply, wincing as he did so. Tomorrow he’d ache all over and much worse.

I pressed a hand to his forehead, “You don’t feel too warm now. Better than before.”

Al loosed a soft, ironic laugh, “What did you give me?”

Modern medicine. “Don’t worry about it, do you feel better at least?”

“I feel…” he reached up and pulled my hand away from his head, “I feel better Ellie. Still bad, though not as bad.”

“Good. Try to sleep okay?”

He let out a long, slow breath. “Is it going to feel like this for long?”

I shrugged, everyone was different. “I don’t know.” I gave his hand a quick squeeze, “Come get me if you start to feel worse again, okay?”

Alistair bobbed his head in assent, “I will.”

Luckily I didn’t have to work the next day, it was the equivalent of Saturday and thus a day of worship for the people who believed in The Maker and Andraste. Nettie closed her shop since she could afford it now, and gave her employees the day off. Which was good for me because after I returned to my room, climbed under the covers and tried to sleep I ended up tossing and turning restlessly. I gave up finally and stared at the ceiling until predawn light began to peek in under my door.

Faintly I heard Alistair’s door open and a second later my door opened too. He tiptoed in, voice in a quiet whisper, “Ellie?”

“I’m awake Al.”

“Oh,” he sounded relieved but sorry, “I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“You didn’t, what’s up?”

He stood awkwardly at the doorway, “I can’t sleep.”

Yeah, codeine did that to me too when I’d taken it. Tired with insomnia. I motioned him in, patting the bed next to me, “Come on.”

“No, I didn’t mean…I mean…what? No. I…no.” He turned a pinkish shade, “Ellie I’m not going to…we’re not going to, I’m not-”

“What the hell are you babbling about?” Then it dawned on me, “Alistair Therin, I did not just ask you to share my bed!” I threw a pillow at him, which hit him square in the chest. 

Still he stood where he was, “Ellie it wouldn’t be right. The Chantry says-”

“Is the Chantry here right now?”

Alistair paused, then said, “The Maker is.”

“The Maker isn’t going to begrudge you a much needed cuddle from someone who is basically your sister.”

That seemed to get him off the fence. He made his way over to the bed, and after a second of hesitation he settled down on top of the blankets. Alistair’s frame made my bed seem a lot smaller, but not in a bad way. He was broad shouldered, long arms and legs, with powerful hands and a golden (if a bit tarnished as of late) heart. Once he looked semi-comfortable I curled up on my side facing him, my head on the pillow, his head against the headboard.

“How do you feel now?” I asked.

Alistair breathed out a long breath he had probably been holding since he decided to get into the bed with me. “The Chantry says bolts of lightning should have killed us both by now for this.”

I rolled my eyes, “Spare me.”

He smiled a little, it was tired and tight but it was a smile nonetheless. “I feel all right, I suppose.” Alistair rubbed his eyes in a purely tired motion, “Exhausted for the most part.”

Sleep had begun to pull at my eyelids, making me drowsy. “Then let’s get some sleep, okay?”

It took him a moment or two to find a comfortable spot on the bed. He reminded me of my dog, the way she would shuffle about the bed trying to find the best spot before she nosed the comforters into a pile and flopped on it. The idea made me giggle.

He lay on his side, facing me, “You trust me enough to let me stay.” Not a question.

I shrugged sleepily. “Why shouldn’t I?”

We fought a war together. If there was anyone in this world I could trust, it was him.


	18. Part Two, Chapter Seven

Chapter 18:  
  
**Three years ago - November 2013.**

  
People don’t vanish into thin air, they don’t just dematerialize; that is impossible. Rubbing her temples Emma closed her eyes and tried to rationalize what she saw. The officer interviewing her and every other person who had been present when Elyria literally faded into nothingness obviously didn’t believe her. For shit’s sake, Emma didn’t believe what her eyes told her when she had been _holding on to_ Elyria at the time. One moment the blonde’s hand had been in Emma’s, heavy warm and trembling and the next Elyria’s form was light, like her body was hollow. There wasn’t any solid warmth to Ellie anymore, and though it seemed to take forever, Elyria dissolved until there was nothing left. Nothing there. An empty space on the floor where her best friend had fallen.  
The officer interviewing her tried to look sympathetic but the woman in uniform had trouble believing anything anyone was saying. People didn’t disappear into nothing. “Did she get up to use the bathroom maybe? After she fell?”  
Annoyance fueled the anger and fear knotting in Emma’s stomach, “Are you joking? I just told you I was holding her hand. I was touching her! She was there one minute and gone the next. I would have noticed if she suddenly stood up, brushed herself off and walked to the bathroom after having a seizure in front of the whole fucking class!”  
Snapping didn’t help her case in the slightest. The officer failed to keep herself from rolling her eyes. “Ma’am, have a seat, I’ll be right back.”  
Emma sat, if only because she had nothing else she could do. She turned her eyes toward the spot on the floor where her best friend since kindergarten had faded away. Head in her hands Emma tried wracking her brain for anything, anything she missed, anything weird about today, anything that didn’t fit, or didn’t belong.   
This morning when Ellie’s alarm went off at 7:30 Emma had already been up working on a paper. The text book next to her bore designs of a guy flipped upside down on a skateboard. Emma could feel Elyria taking a peek over her shoulder at the paper on the page.  
“I don’t understand why a nursing major has to take physics.”  
With a snort, “Kettle, pot, Google it.”  
“Hardy-har-har,” Ellie gathered her shower caddy, the one with the blue and white daises, “I choose not to take classes in my major.” She nabbed her towel out of the closet, “Pisses them off.”  
“And delays your graduation,” Emma said without looking up from the block of text in front of her.  
Yawning, “Shush woman. We’ll have none of yer common sense here. We burn ye for it.”  
The shoddy attempt at an English-ish/Scottish-ish accent made Emma snicker, “We found a witch, may we burn her?”  
Ellie pulled open the door to their dorm room, “How do you know she’s a witch?”  
“She looks like one!”  
Someone shuffled by in the hall, “Too early for Monty Python.”  
Shocked and horrified Ellie replied, “It is never too early for Monty Python!” She turned her head, “Ems, we are totally having a Monty Python night in the very near future.”  
Emma lifted one hand from the keyboard and pointed in the general direction of the hall bathroom, “Go shower before the chick in 3B decides she’s going to shave off everything but her eyebrows in the big shower again.”  
With a shudder Elyria padded out into the hallway with her lavender flip flops, grey/white striped towel, and pink-purple tie-dyed extra extra large t-shirt that hung around her knees. Where every other college student had shown up on their first day with matching everything down to their suitcases, Elyria did as she always had, if it matched it matched. If it didn’t, screw it, shit still worked.  
Emma almost laughed. She finished the final arguments about ten seconds before Elyria’s voice sounded again in the hallway.  
“Oi, 3B! You clog that drain again I’m gonna make you clean it with your tweezers and toothbrush! Don’t you stink eye me, they needed to get a pipe snake and a plumber in here after you went to town on your down south. Girls are supposed to have fur, learn to love your peach fuzz woman.” The door opened and a freshly showered, and somewhat brighter Elyria walked through it. “Do you believe her? She’s got like four razors in her caddy. _Four_.”  
Emma was suddenly thankful she had already showered. She lowered the lid of her laptop, taking a much needed break after writing nearly seven pages of text and citations. Standing to stretch made some of the bones in her back pop. The all too familiar sound of the Dragon Age Origins made her turn around. “Really?” Her eyes went to the vintage Labyrinth wall clock, “It isn’t even eight o’clock yet.”  
Elyria shrugged, “Don’t hate the player, hate the-”  
“If I have to listen to you romance Alistair one more time I swear to god I’m going to,” Emma mimed taking a baseball bat to Elyria’s laptop, “trust me.”  
“Hater.” Elyria finished rubbing a towel through her mostly damp tresses, “want to get breakfast at Big Sam’s or Little Sam’s?”  
“Big Sam’s, I want an omelet.”  
“Ugh woman if you order peppers in your eggs again I’m gonna dump your food in the trash and feed you mints until you burst.”  
Breakfast was normal, Brandon met them outside and Kerry showed up with a tray full of pancakes and scrambled eggs five minutes later sporting new shades of Halloween orange and Save the Tatas pink in her copper-red hair. They split up for classes a little before nine, Emma to Sociology and Elyria to Mythology.  
At 11:45 like usual they met outside Little Sam’s for take out which they ate while watching the most recent episode of Supernatural. Elyria fawned over Dean, bemoaning the fact that neither of them had the money to go to the Toronto Supernatural Convention two weeks prior. What Ellie would have given to meet Jensen Ackles in person for five minutes.  
Emma breathed in sharply, her eyes stinging. No. She wouldn’t cry. She had to think of what could have happened. A slow breath out, and she continued.  
They split again at 12:40-ish, Emma to turn in her physics paper and Elyria to her econ class. Normally they met inside for History of Rock and Roll, whoever got there first - usually Elyria because her class was in the Sawyer building a two minute walk away versus Emma coming from the Kotezel building nearly a six minute walk - reserved the other person’s seat.  
Elyria wasn’t inside when Emma got to class. Weird, but not out of the ordinary. The blonde shuffled in - literally shuffled - Emma could hear her sneakers and jeans drag on the linoleum flooring, right before the professor started taking attendance. Elyria sat down, she didn’t take off her bag, didn’t pull out her notebook, didn’t move.   
Emma had leaned over and whispered, “El, are you alright?”  
No response.  
“Elyria, are you alright?”  
Nothing.  
Emma reached out and touched her friend’s shoulder, “Elyria?”  
The seizure started immediately. Ellie slid out of her chair shaking uncontrollably, someone screamed, someone else yelled, Emma went into nurse mode. She ripped her jacket off her chair and bundled it to make a pillow for Elyria’s head so she wouldn’t crack her skull open on the tiled floor. Doctor Dave started talking to 911 on his phone. Some stoner at the back of the class talked about how fucked up a PCP laced dubie got him a couple of years ago. Someone else said her uncle had gone into seizures after getting alcohol poisoning at a party.  
Ellie, when she came to, spoke like normal Elyria and not the person who had walked themselves into the classroom. And then….and then….There was no logical reason for it. There was no legitimate explanation. How could there be? 

**_People don’t just vanish into thin air._**  
  
**Present Day.**

Varric’s expression hung somewhere between horrified, fascinated and amused. “You really don’t know when your nameday is?”

Sighing, “I said I have a general idea of when my birthday is. I was born May thirty first in my world, which is approximately the first of Justinian here. Your years are shorter though. Your months are exactly thirty days, ours vary. We have 365 days in a year and leap years with an extra day.” I shrugged, “My best guess, with time adjustment for a possible leap year this year, which I think is twenty sixteen in my time…” I did the math quickly in my head, probably wrong because I am bad at math. Period. “My birthday was the seventeenth of Justinian.” I think. “I turned twenty four.”

“And next year?” The dwarf prompted with that gleam in his eye that told me he was writing everything down, mentally, for later.

“Add five days.” I honestly had no idea how we got on this subject. Ten minutes ago we were walking along silently, listening to Alistair and Sebastian having a (loud) philosophical disagreement on whether having Andraste’s face on one’s belt was akin to blaspheming.

Technically, they were still having the same argument, only Hawke with his snarky attitude had joined in and made things a little more...well…

“I never thought I’d say this, but I agree with Anders! Putting the face of the Maker’s bride over your nethers every morning is just-”

“A little presumptuous before offering to break her fast first?”

Sebastian winced, his shoulders tightening briefly as his steps slowed for a moment. “Hawke…”

Hawke glanced between them feigning innocence, “What? Too far?”

Alistair turned slightly green on top of the reddish blush he sported from talking about sex. Poor, poor unsexed buddy of mine. He was saving his first time for someone special. Someone worth the wait. I felt a little guilty knowing he could have had that if only I’d loaded one of my female wardens that morning instead of that asswipe Cousland. Hashtag bad life choices. If I ever, ever got home again I was deleting his save and wiping his name from my effing hard drive with an effing vengeance. 

Nudging Varric, “Aren’t you Andrastian too?”

He snorted, “Don’t spread that around. I have a reputation to maintain.”

“Ahh, yes the brooding writer persona. Dry wit, morbid sense of humor, liberally sprinkled with bouts of questionable morality and borderline insanity.”

Varric managed to look mildly offended, “I do not brood.  **Broody** broods. I...contemplate the world around me. Deeply.”

“With bourbon.”

“Don’t go trying to save me like you did Cheesy over there. I don’t need saving. I need new ideas for Swords and Shields.” He rubbed his scruffy chin which reminded me again how much I just wanted to get back to Kirkwall, go to a bathhouse and then snuggle with an oversized teddy-man-bear.  
We’d been gone only two days but it felt like a week. My hair, despite Alistair trying to help me wash and comb out the spider ichor, smelled like death and gunk. My armor, despite the scrub I’d given it was still stained and kind of gross, and I was fairly sure at least one part of me still had some sort of gooey muck stuck to it. I glanced back at Alistair, Sebastian and Hawke all sporting their full body armor.

It felt like I had the persistent gore setting on and they didn’t. Grr.

“What’s up Cupcake?” Varric asked. “I can hear you thinking.”

“How is the editing on my book going?”

“The editing on  _ our _ book is up to  _ our _ editor. Don’t forget I vouched for your credibility. That manuscript belongs to both of us now.”

How could I? He’d never let me forget. “Uh huh. And the answer to my question is...?”

“We’ll see when we get back. If she has an issue, and for your sake I hope she doesn’t - the woman once stabbed someone over a semi colon - she’ll let us know.”

Bobbing my head in assent, we walked on. By the time we reached Kirkwall’s gates, it was nearing late evening. The midsummer moon came up full and bright, bathing city’s outer walls in a blue-white glow. Bright light also meant dark shadows. My spine tingled a little. Nona, my great grandmother, called the feeling of someone walking across my grave. Hell with that shit.

After we passed the guards who were a little too lax with the security at this time of the day for my tastes, I put my hand on the small dagger at the base of my spine. A girl can never be too careful, trust me. Varric caught the movement and raised an eyebrow.

“My spidey senses are tingling,” I told him in a low voice.

He, in a smooth, almost nonchalant, move, adjusted Bianca into a more accessible position. 

We passed a few people walking around high town, dressed well and enjoying the warmth of late spring. Tevinter voices mixed with Kirkwall natives and visitors in the evening air. There were still a few merchants here and there, closing shop or selling the last of their goods before heading home. The closer we got to the Rose, the more people there were. The torch lights threw shadows over people's faces.

“Is that Gamlen?” Hawke asked incredulously, watching a man that yes, did very much look like his rat faced uncle walk through the doors of the Rose. “Ugh, that’s just...ugh. There are things one does not need to know about his family and their private live. I think I may need to scrub my eyes with lye.”

Alistair, not missing a beat said, “Imagine how the women feel.”

Hawke gagged loudly. “Never. Say.  **That. ** To. Me. Again.”

We made another two blocks when the number of people in the area began to thin out again. No guard patrol either. Sebastian removed his bow from his back, notched it and aimed the arrow toward the ground. Alistair put his hand on the sword at his side. I lost the pretense and pulled my dagger and my new(ish) short sword. 

“Is it me or is this quite obviously a setup?” Hawke asked, sauntering through an archway.

Down came the axe. A literal axe, with a beefy, if not well armored, individual holding the haft. Hawke managed, somehow. to reel back, catching most of the blow on the armor. There was a resounding scraping crunch followed by a quick, snick snick. Two of Sebastian’s arrows stuck out of the eye and neck of another mercenary who had been about to fire his own bow from the stairs twenty feet ahead of us. The merc dropped like a rock. Alistair’s holler resounded off of the brick buildings before he drove shield first into a pair of also not very well armored mercenaries. Varric was already firing Bianca toward another archer.

I got my chance on a sneaky bastard who slid in behind Alistair with a pair of small, sharp looking daggers. They would have fit right between the thin spots in Al’s armor. Al turned around in time to see me pull the guy down, using his weight against him. Big heavy guy versus short, muscular girl who was used to fighting things a lot bigger than her. The merc gurgled blood around the blade in his throat.

Al flashed me a grin and went back to bashing heads. I took the daggers off the corpse’s hands, and pulled the disappearing trick Izzy had been trying to teach me. This time I went for the kidneys on a merc not much bigger than me, he let out a strangled, pained cry before sliding to the ground.

“You would think the Crows would be better at this. They’ve been doing it for ages.”

These losers were Crows? I kicked one of them over, shitty generic merc armor. Maybe they were new to the Crows, or maybe they were hirelings that the Crow decided to throw at us to see if we were worth fighting. Wouldn’t be the first time that happened.

“The Crows were a gift from you?” Hawke’s sass reared up. “That’s generous.”

Oh no. No. Shit. No. We weren’t even technically in second act yet were we? Sebastian had joined us but, as far as I knew anyway, there hadn’t been anything remotely related to act two yet. Either way, Mark of the Assassin had begun.

“Oh I didn’t arrange this, but it’s no coincidence I’m here.”

Felicia Day’s voice coming out of an elf’s mouth. Surreal.

“My name is Tallis,” she said, “and I’ve been looking for you.”

“We can’t all go,” Aveline, the sound voice of reason. She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “ I refuse to appear as your wife Hawke.”

“Of course you’re not big girl,” Isabella drawled with a smile, “one look at you and everyone will know who rules the roost.”

Aveline leveled a glare at Izzy, “And neither can you, harlot. One look at you and you’ll be deemed mistress not wife. You’ll cause a scandal.”

Isabella pouted, “Now that’s not fair.”

“Blending in is the key to not being noticed.” Tallis added in a helpful, almost cheery tone.

“You could request Bethany’s help,” I added, “ask for a furlough from the Circle.” Shouldn’t have opened my mouth, ‘why she so crazy’ looks all around. I returned to editing my memories. 

Leandra sighed, “A man of my son’s age needs to arrive with a wife or he’ll be forced to deal with women hunting for a husband. He will never have the chance to slip away if need be. If Aveline does not wish to go and Isabella cannot go, that leaves two choices.”

Watching Fenris drag one hand through his white-silver hair in frustration almost made me jealous of either the hand or the hair. The elf breathed out a long, angry sigh, “No lord or lady would arrive with two elves in tow who are  _ not _ servants.”

Leandra gave him a patient smile, “A point I was about to make dear, thank you. This leaves one option.”

“No one said I can’t go,” Isabella protested, loudly. “I clean up well. I’ll have you know, I was a noble woman once.”

“And now a pirate whore.”

“What’s the matter big girl? If you can’t fit into a dress no one can?”

“Isabella!” Leandra’s tone reminded me of my mom back in the days when she cared if I acted out or not. “I am sure you are very much capable of recalling your days as a lady. Can you tell me how many people there may recognize you?”

Isabella opened her mouth, flicked her tongue over her teeth and closed her mouth in a grim line. “No.”

“Leaving one choice.”

I looked up from my papers. “Hell no.”

“Elyria.”

“No Hawke. I am not, do you hear me, not posing as your wife! I swear, I swear on my Great Aunt Beatrice, if you ask the Circle they’ll let Bethany out for some shits and giggles.”

“Besides,” Al inclined his head at me, “Ellie couldn’t act her way out of a box.”

“See! He’s known me for years.” 

“We’ve all seen Elyria dupe seasoned warriors into thinking she isn’t a threat,” Aveline added, “and they do not live to regret the mistake. I think she’s a fine choice.”

“Right, then, that would be Tallis, Elyria, myself and...which one of you wants to pretend to be a servant?”

“If Ellie is going, I’m going.” Al took a step closer to me. “We know each other's habits while fighting, so if this gets dangerous-

“You can’t go.” I said. “Tegan will be there.” A small smile formed at the corners of his mouth. He had fond memories of his sort-of uncle Tegan. I hated to rip the rug out from under him, but if he went Tegan would insist on coming back. Or taking Al with them. If he still insisted on going after he knew about Tegan’s company, I wouldn’t stop him but he had the right to know.“And so will Lady Isolde.”

The blood drained from his face, his lips parting in shock. “I…” his voice sounded strained, like his throat might have been clenching.

“Are you ready to deal with that? With them?”

“Someone has to watch your back,” he said after a moment of silent resignation.

“Someone will. Fenris.” The white haired elf gave me a slight look, as if to ask if I was sure. I gave a nod in response. Of all the people in the room, him I trusted him to keep me alive. “If that’s okay with him? I’m not going unless he goes, just keep that in mind.”

“Looks like Fenris it is.”

“I didn’t agree,” Fenris said. He studied Tallis for several long moments. “I am not going to pretend to be your manservant.”

“No, of course not.” Hawke scoffed. “You’ll be our bodyguard. To Orlais, and the nobility of other countries, Kirkwall is a shithole. They’ll expect me to have a bodyguard.”

Fenris snorted, “I hope you realize the trouble you’re asking for Hawke.”

“Believe me, I already had a chat with Varric about ‘talking me up.’” Hawke rubbed his brow, “Elyria, I suppose it is too much to hope you have something in your wardrobe fit for the occasion?”

I did. I didn’t want to tell him that - mostly because I despise corsets and how they fit - but I did. “I have some things.” He was staring at me like I had two heads. “What?”

“You have a dress?”

I felt the blush rise on my cheeks, “Yes.”

“A nice dress?” He cocked an eyebrow at me.

“Yes you pompous ass. Three if you must know.”

“And where did you get said dresses?”

“Lady Elegant took an interest in my wardrobe,” or rather lack thereof, “a couple of years ago. Trust me, they’re appropriate for the event.” Though more medieval in style. Two tunic dresses and one dress that reminded me of Lady Guinevere. They all sat gathering dust in a trunk Leandra gave me because we never went anywhere nice. I couldn’t bring a dress with me to beat the shit out of some thugs hassling merchants on their way to market. Nor to work every morning while I toiled away making baked goods for the bakery’s patrons.

“Right then, everyone has had a long day and the party doesn't begin until day after next.” Hawke turned his attention and a charming smile toward the pouting pirate, “Shall we my dear?”

Then, I suppose to spite Aveline, Isabela wiggled her rump and left the room with her lover. Leandra excused herself, and Tallis went off to wherever she had lodging. I supposed in the Qunari compound.

“Alistair, will you walk with me?” Aveline asked. “I would like to speak with you if you have a moment.”

Al bobbed his head, “Meet you at the entrance to low town Ellie.”

Fenris and I left Hawke’s home side by side. “I finished the book you gave me, the one with the children's fables.”

“Did you like it?” 

“I have vague recollections of hearing them before, though I couldn't say when or where.” We walked down the steps toward the empty marketplace. “Would you tell me where you found Tevinter fairytales here in Kirkwall?”

From a merchant Varric knew. “Dark town market, I think it might have been stolen.” We were getting closer to the low town entrance, and further from his home. “Won't you have a long walk back in the dark?”

“Alistair believed Aveline might wish to speak to him about his request to become part of the guard. He asked me to walk with you.” 

I laughed a little. “He’s always trying to be my big brother.”

Fenris slowed a little, the steps leading to low town were not even sixty feet away. “Your brother?”

“Yeah. He’s a lot better at it than my actual brother though. Bash’s only concern when I got mugged was if the mugger got the keys to the house and if we’d have to change the locks.” 

Fenris came to a complete stop. His brow creased as he looked at me with those ridiculously green eyes of his. “Do you think of him as your brother?”

Confused, “Of course I do. How else would I see him?”

“Isabella is under the impression you sleep in his bed.”

I laughed a good long laugh, delighted by the idea that Izzy’s mind would go that dirty with someone like Alistair. “We share a bed,” I corrected, “because I have shitty dreams. So does he. We’re both suffering from post traumatic stress disorder. It is easier to wake up in a room with someone else and immediately talk about the fucked up shit going on in our heads than sleep alone and deal with it alone.” I touched his shoulder, “I don’t just make out with everyone who wakes me up from a bad dream Fenris.”

It was his turn to flush. He didn’t break eye contact though. “That is...good to know.”

I took one step toward him, and for the first time since the incident in my bedroom, he did not retreat. We were barely a foot away from each other now. He looked down at me and I back up at him. My heartbeat thumped out a bass beat in my chest, I was so sure the whole of Kirkwall could hear it. I could push up on my toes, I only had to meet him halfway. 

This time I reached out to touch his chest. He covered my hand with his, gently squeezing it. “Elyria...-” His voice rough, low.

“Ellie!” Al called from the other end of the market.

Fenris took two steps back, hands dropping to his sides in fists.

Damn it Al. I tried to smile at him as he came to a stop beside me, but I know it didn’t reach my eyes. “Good news?”

“Not exactly. Having two Ferelden refugees on the guard seems to be a bit of an issue.” He bobbed his head at Fenris, shooting the elf a boyish grin. “Thank you for walking Ellie back and waiting with her.” 

Fenris glanced to Alistair, “You’re welcome.” Dark green eyes met mine. “Elyria.” Then the enigmatic elf walked away silently.

Ugh. Just. UGH. Cockblocked by my best friend. I’d be mad at him, but he had no idea he'd even fucked up. We began taking the stairs down toward low town, the dusty stones adding a sort of soft echo as our booted feet hit them. There were still people around, though not many.

“Two Fereldens in the guard, dear lord, what kind of shit is that? What are you to going to do?”

Alistair chuckled a little under his breath. “Destroy the morale of the other guards by being honest and  **not** taking bribes?”

We shot each other looks of feigned shock and horror that broke in to snarky laughter as we walked our way home.


	19. Part Two, Chapter Eight

Chapter 19

**Three years ago:**

If one more person asked her if she was okay, asked how was she feeling, or if she needed anything, Emma was going to scream and start acting out suddenly violently and all over the place. She shoved past a gaggle of giggling freshmen taking advantage of the unseasonably warm weather to ogle freshman boys avoiding studying by playing football on the green between the dorms.

The cops returned Elyria’s computer today to her family.

They had no leads.

The footage from the Hawkins building had been released to the press less than an hour after Elyria went ‘missing’ by the police.

Viola and her foul husband were supposed to be here at noon to start packing up Elyria’s stuff. It was currently 12:12. Emma ran up the stairs, envious of every time Brandon or Kerry and sometimes even Elyria could take them two at a time. The thought made her pause on the landing before the second set of stairs to her floor. Elyria. It had been a whole month and not a word of her. From her. Nothing, just like the nothing that had been left behind after she faded away.

The official story from the cops since the eye witness accounts were so wildly different, was that there had been a gas leak in the Hawkins building. It cause a mass hallucination. From there she either got up and walked away or someone had walked in and removed her. A lot of people thought she was tripping a bad trip and one day she’d come back.

That possibility seemed less likely with every passing day.

Emma took the stairs a lot more slowly to the second floor.

When she did exit the stairwell, she found her room door open. Viola sat on Elyria’s bed with the violet and periwinkle blue sheets given to her freshman year by her older sister still in place. Elyria, no matter how black she colored her own wool, did love her family and judging by the way Viola looked around the room, her family loved her back in their own way.

Emma stepped into her dorm room, slinging her bag onto her desk, “Vi.”

Viola looked out the window moss green eyes staring at nothing, seeing everything, “We had a fight the day she left for school. I….I don’t even remember what it was about. I’ve been so mad at her for it and I can’t remember why I was angry.” She shook her head, loose dark blonde hair so different from her usual severe up-do’s for the office. “I don’t remember why I wasn’t speaking to her this time.”

There had been lots of times. Too many to count. They all seemed so stupid now.

Emma opened her mouth to say something, but her voice was lost when George walked himself into the room carrying a couple of empty boxes. He put them down on the bed next to his wife. “I’m telling you, she did this on purpose. She’ll show up in a few more days acting like the snotty brat she is. I think your parents should do something about it, this behavior is unacceptable.”

Viola didn’t bother looking at him, “Shut up and go to the car George.”

“Viola,” his voice took on an almost whining quality. Emma wanted to slap him.

Viola pinned him with a venomous glare, “Go.”

He went.

Emma moved the boxes over and took their place next to Viola. They never had any form of close contact with the seven year age difference there wasn’t any reason for it. This was weird, but somehow easy. She reached out and took Viola’s hand. Viola squeezed Emma’s hand in return.

“Do you know why I didn’t know until the next day when Elyria went missing?”

“No.”

A tear slid down Viola’s cheek, “I miscarried. I found out I was pregnant and lost the baby the same day. And do you know what was so strange? I didn’t want to call my mother, I didn’t want to tell George….” her voice trembled, “I had this overwhelming urge to call Elyria. I wanted my sister. I don’t know why…I…” she sobbed her shoulders shaking, “I don’t know why I didn’t call her.”

**Present Day:**

Chateau Haine, like everything Orlesian in game, came off even more gaudy and ostentatious as it had way back when I first played DA2. Still, somehow, it managed to scream the word fortress at the same time. I sipped my champagne and - like the good mercenary I’d learned to be - counted the guards, the servants and how many people here would happily pay us to oust their competition. Especially the de Launcet girls.

I winced as one of them cackled and her sister hucked like a hyenas on crack.

Lady Elegant snorted. She crossed her arms, watching the two girls act exactly as expected. Like two spoiled, over indulged, entitled little brats.

“I pity the men they’ll marry.” My companion tipped her wine glass back, draining it. “They’ll marry well, very well if their parents have their way. Their family knows the right people, and they’ll be invited to court with regularity.” She almost sounded like she envied them.

I placed her empty glass on the tray of a passing servant. “And they’ll have all the finest clothing, jewels, decorations for their home.” I stole another glass of red off a different servant and placed it in my companion’s hands. “But you know what they won’t have?”

“Worries?”

I clinked my glass against hers. “Self respect.” Slightly behind and to the right of me, Fenris chuckled low and a little bit throaty. I kind of liked the things it did to my girly places. 

Lady Elegant smiled at me, sipping once more. “You always do know how to make me feel better Elyria.”

“It's a gift.” 

“Speaking of, dear, I told you that dress would look lovely on you. Next time don’t fight my fashion sense.”

The dress was a nice one, even if it pushed my bosom up to my ears. Long navy blue silk embroidered with deep burgundy feathers reminiscent of a peacock's. The colors at the eye faded into jade, gold and cream. Unlike every other woman in the room who wore similar fashions like those I’d seen years ago in Ferelden, I looked like something out of A Midsummer’s Night’s Dream. I was kind of digging the jealous glances thrown my way.

Scanning the crowd again provided me with a glimpse of Lady Isolde which meant Tegan had to be nearby. Not the people I wanted to see. Social gatherings were so not my thing anymore. Pre-Thedas, I could dance until dawn with Em. Post-Thedas, I liked to snuggle and sleep and not much else. Liquid courage helped me walk with a straight back and chin high, but it couldn’t stop the periodic need to tug at my dress or check that my breasts weren’t popping out, or from tugging at my sleeves-

“Stop fidgeting,” Fenris’ softly spoken admonishment reminded me he walked near enough for me to reach back and touch if need be. “Your husband,” did I imagine the way he said the word husband the way others would say the word Andraste, almost a prayer. “Has money and he has a title. Half of these people have one but not the other. You are, as far as they are concerned, better off than many of them.”

I paused at the fountain, pretending to admire my reflection and toss one of the caprice coins. “You try dressing like this around this crowd and see how you feel.” 

He stopped beside me, closer than he had been previously, less than two feet separated us. A buzz of excitement made its way through me when the back of Fenris’ gloved hand brushed against mine. “I, for one, am enjoying the view.” 

I’m not blushing. I am  **not** blushing. The tell tale warmth on my neck and face said otherwise. Trying not to grin like a fool, “We should…um…” Find a dark room and make out like teenagers. 

Gah, my brain misfired in its attempt to move past the ridiculously good looking elf watching me with interest. What had I been doing before? Did he realize he looked good enough to pounce on and drag away? Black layered on snowy white, layered over more black with silver stitched feathers topped with polished obsidian buttons. Green eyes, so much darker than mine remained steadfast and dark with some emotion that made my heartbeat kick into overdrive. 

“Do you think he knows?” One of the de Launcet girls – they honestly can’t be more than sixteen or seventeen years old, why don’t they have a chaperone to yank their leash? – asked her sister in an unapologetically loud stage whisper. 

Smears of Orlesian chocolate coated the younger one’s lower lip as she nibbled at the sweet between her fingers, “Who?”

“ _ Lord Hawke _ ,” the older one gave an exaggerated sigh of annoyance. “Do you think he knows?”

Another one, not a daughter of the de Launcet, a friend maybe, titterd, the fan she used slightly swayed a tendril of her hair. “ **What** are you talking about?”

“Quite a brazen thing isn’t she?” She eyed me, then Fenris and I realized at the same time exactly how close we were standing. “Though I suppose, since she is already married, cuckolding her husband is only fair.” Now there were other eyes on us. Judging, calculating, curious. Then her gaze turned fully to Fenris, and the touch of emotion in his gaze hardened into a cool, stony expression. “But with an elven servant,” she made a noise, “tacky.”

Crushing the single remaining caprice coin in my hand, I thought about throwing at her face. Give her a small scar she would always have to look at in the mirror to teach her a lesson about not being catty. Her words didn’t bother me, but that little bitch took a shot at my  _ boyfriend _ . Gathering as much composure as I could to keep myself from wringing her scrawny neck, “Fifi, I have been meaning to ask you a question all night, perhaps you could answer it for me?” If at all possible, the teenager preened. “Your perfume.”

“Eau de heliotrope,” she told me proudly, her chin and nose in the air.

“Are the bathing facilities at home so bad that you must douse yourself from head to toe or is that a personal preference? Singing the noses of others seems a little off putting for a girl in search of a man to replenish her family’s…reputation.”

Beside her the friend with the fan sputtered, failing miserably to cover her amusement. Other people didn’t bother. The color rose on Fifi’s face, her skin turning from milky-peach to tomato red. The hateful glare the older de Launcet girl threw me as I walked away with Fenris would have been cutting if I actually cared. Lady Elegant winked at me as we passed her.

Once we were past the secondary fountain, this one a naked nymph pouring an ever flowing jug of water into the pool below, I dumped the last caprice coin lest I be tempted to scar that little bitch with it. 

“We should attempt to find Hawke and Tallis.” Fenris’ voice held no emotion.

Oh hell no. We were not going back into the him withdrawing from me stage of our relationship. Fuck that shit sideways with a  _ chainsaw _ . Hedges, where were those high hedges? Right where they were supposed to be, by the steps and another gaudy, pointless statue. Once we were out of sight of the party, I grabbed Fenris by the back of his neck, pushed up on the tips of my toes and yanked his stupid face down to meet mine.

He let out a sound, a little shocked at my forwardness I suppose.

And then I found myself being pushed against a wall, fingers tangling in the fine hair at the nape of his neck while he groaned into my mouth. Hands at my waist, pulling me close, yet somehow keeping just far enough away that I wasn’t touching him. I made a sound at the back of my throat and tried to press closer, wanting to feel his warm body against mine. 

He wouldn’t let me, he held me there, and growled low in his throat when I tried again. “Elyria,” his voice a rough whisper in the millimeters of space between us, “enough, please.”

Withdrawing, I sighed. “Right. No shagging you senseless in public.”

Fenris chuckled deeply, a pleasant rumbling sound in his chest. “Don’t tempt me.”

Shivering in the most delicious way, I grabbed his arm and tugged him away from our hiding place. “Come on, before their tongues wag at us again.”

Any delusions I had about navigating the maze under the estate successfully were completely decimated by the second time we passed the same sconce. One might ask how I knew it was the same sconce at all. Having, on our first round through these series of hallways, added some of the despair ham to the fire helped to figure it out. Fenris stopped beside me as well, obviously aggravated.

He motioned to the brazier, “This hallway is beginning to stink like foul pig and blackened despair.”

Thank you captain obvious. “I only did it to make sure we knew if we were going around in circles.”

“Clearly, we are.”

No shit Sherlock. “Come on, we’ll go right up at the next corner instead of left. Maybe that will make the difference.”

“As long as we get away from the stench. I should never have let you actually put that garbage in the fire.”

We turned left instead of right then right again at the next corner. Fenris grabbed my arm pulling me to a stop in the middle of the next hallway. “Wait.”

“What?” I asked impatiently.

He was silent for half a moment then pulled me back toward the other end of the hall. “Guards.”

There was nowhere to escape to but the hallway we’d just come from. Back we went. And on the guards came. I gave a low, almost inaudible groan of annoyance, earning a glare from Fenris. The clanging footsteps kept coming our way.

“Kiss me.” I whispered.

He didn’t need to be asked twice. Fenris pushed me against the stone, his mouth meeting mine. This time didn’t hold me at arm’s length, instead his long, lanky form pressed against mine, one hand at my waist while the other slid around the small of my back. The lyrium tattoos took on a brighter glow.

My fingers went into the fine hairs at the base of his neck. His whole body so warm against mine, hard planes and sinewy muscles. I flicked my tongue against his lower, then upper lip asking him to open his mouth. He did with a groan, his hips giving a shallow thrust against my belly. A very hard part of him made itself known. 

The sex would be  **amazing.**

At some point the guard passed, though I’m certain I didn’t hear them. Fenris separated from me after several minutes, turning his head in one direction then the other looking for our unwanted guests. I, a little dizzy and starry-eyed, blinked rapidly to clear the lust haze.

“They’re gone.” He said, voice hoarse with things that made my bits tingle.

In answer I dragged him back down into another kiss.

Eventually we did find Hawke and Tallis, though I’m sure Varric would say they found us in his story to the Seeker. I’ll concede to the four of us finding each other. 

“You two look no worse for wear.” Hawke said, giving us both a once over.

“I’ll be happier when I can change out of this stupid dress for my gear.” I went for the small condensed pack under my skirts, strapped to one thigh. One of Izzy’s. She got all excited knowing stuff that was close to her bits would be close to my bits at least once. Perv. Don’t get me wrong, I love her. But she is a perv. 

Once my gear was in hand I ducked behind a large stalagmite and changed out of my party dress, shoving that into the magical mysterious pack that somehow allowed me to carry twelve potions, a dress, fancy satin slippers and weapons all on my thigh without anyone ever knowing.

Magic, I will miss you when I’m gone.

While I was changing, there was an angry, “Ben hassrath!” From Fenris.

By Andraste’s blessing or sheer dumb luck, Fenris forewent the glaring and brooding at me for glaring and brooding at Tallis. He challenged her repeatedly by speaking in the language of the Qun. She laughed at him a few times, correcting his pronunciation which only served to push Fenris further. 

As we approached the end of the gauntlet run down the mountain, Hawke stopped beside me. He cleaned his weapon for the umpteenth time since we left the cave network while watching the road ahead. “Anything?”

“Nothing I can see, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out all the stops for the final shebang.”

Hawke cast me a look that asked me plainly if I was keeping secrets again. In return I turned to Tallis and asked, “Any intel you can share?”

The wyvern the Duke kept as a pet decided that exact moment was a good time to start making some noise. 

“Leopold is out of his cage.” Tallis supplied with a touch of ‘ah shit’ in her tone.

“And ready to play.” I added with a nod at Hawke.

He returned my nod. I hope he took my meaning. Onward we went.


	20. Part Two, Chapter Nine

Chapter 20:

**Two years ago:**

Getting a nursing job had been easy enough. Every hospital in the tri-state area, most of New Jersey, all of Long Island and Connecticut were hiring. Emma and Kerry, with Kerry’s degree in psychology and ability to speak Russian, Spanish and Arabic, ended up at the same hospital. They saw Brandon Lee now and again for drinks. He managed to get a decent enough position working for an art gallery. Not working in MoMa like he wanted, but close enough for him to live with the job for a while. And picking up extra cash as a nude model wasn’t too shabby either.

Occasionally when they got together they talked about seeing someone that looked like their missing friend. Kerry had been on the subway going to Jamaica when she saw someone who looked like Elyria from behind. She’d gone up to the woman, put her hand on the woman’s shoulder and said, “Ellie?” Only to realize this woman’s hair was too dark, her skin not the right shade of warm.

Emma had been at work when they wheeled in a woman, 5’5”-ish with pale blonde locks matted in blood. face distorted by bruises. Emma worked harder than she could ever remember working on any patient, all while her heart pounded in fear and hope. Four hours of surgery later the woman woke up, blue eyes not minty green.

Brandon’s heart stopped every time he saw a blonde walk into the gallery. Elyria loved art. Loved it. He couldn’t count how many times they had gone to the MET together, to MoMa, to the Natural History Museum, to random pop up art shows that she got tweets about. Every time a blonde walked into the gallery he worked on the mental math. Were her heels just low enough for Ellie to walk in? The hairstyle, was it uncomplicated? Ellie hated complicated hair. The outfit, was it plain or quirky? Ellie was a mix of 80’s attitude, 90’s grunge and post 2k pop culture with a good sprinkle of I-don’t-give-a-fuck on top.

Whenever they went out, which wasn’t very often now that they were all grown adults trying to make their way in the world, they each did a shot of whiskey. 

For Elyria.

**Present day:**

I can’t get the lyrics to Radioactive out of my head and I have no clue why. We were finally home after dealing with Leopold and his owner. The only thing I wanted was to curl up with a cup of tea and read a book. Instead I’m finishing the dinner that Alistair fell asleep making. Alistair, tired from taking over my job at the bakery for a few days, had woken up upon our entry to the flat. He’d groggily said something about soup being on, and promptly stumbled blearily to his room.

Fenris was watching me as I bounced and hummed along to the music in my head. “What is that?”

“Radioactive, by Imagine Dragons.”

The corner of his mouth turned upward. “Imagine dragons.”

I laughed a little. “Yeah. I know. I don’t have to imagine dragons now.”

“You know,” I scooped up a potato and offered it to him. He plucked it with two fingers and tossed it between his hands to cool it. “First time I saw a dragon, I nearly screamed. I didn’t expect it. I knew it was coming, I knew the dragon was there but coming up to it, seeing one of them, that’s a whole different story.”

“Soft enough,” he told me through bites.

I moved the pot away from the direct fire and went to retrieve soup bowls.

“What does ‘radioactive’ mean?” 

“There are certain…” I tried to think of a word as I ladled soup into a bowl for him. Alistair really tried hard with this. Potatoes, dumplings, chicken, carrots, peas, salt, pepper and something else. It smelled fantastic. “Substances where I’m from that are dangerous. They give off something called radiation. Touching it, being near it, for too long is toxic. It can kill. Thankfully these things aren’t readily available to the world at large.”

“Like Qunari black powder.”

I snorted. “No. This is worse than black powder. I wish I had a better way to explain it. Its like dragonfire, bottled. Constantly hot, constantly ready to kill you.” I shook my head. “Black powder is dangerous when you get fire near it. This stuff, nuclear weapons, poisons the air, the ground, the water. It causes cancer, and mutates the way things grow and their basic properties. It is thousands of times more dangerous than the largest cache of black powder to ever exist.”

“Well that settles that,” Alistair, now awake and no longer stumbling said from down the hall. “I won’t sleep with that image in my head.” He shuffled down the short hall toward the common room. “Fenris…” his brow furrowed, “you were here weren’t you? Right? I didn’t dream that?”

Our elven friend pushed his bowl over to the tired templar. “Eat, you look terrible.” He went to the cupboard for another bowl.

“No you didn’t dream that. Though you didn’t sleep long.”

“Couldn’t.” He replied. “Had a nightmare of Nettie beating me with a rolling pin for destroying a pie batch. I just couldn’t get the blackberries to stop climbing my arms. Then they wanted to make a spinach quiche out of me…” He sighed and bowed his head over the soup. “How do you get up that early and work that long? I’d much rather face whatever job Hawke has next.”

“The desire to pay for this flat, and the desire to eat regularly.”

He harrumphed at that and began eating.

Fenris returned to the table, full bowl in hand and three slices of bread from the pantry. He slid one to Alistair who, around a mouth full of potatoes, said thank you and went back to devouring his meal. The other slice came to me, Fenris brushing his hand against mine before turning his attention to his meal as well.

I could live like this. The thought bubbled itself up from my brain without me consciously going there. I sat there, next to my best friend, across from the person I was in love with and realized it was true. I could live like this, no doubt happily, for the rest of my life. There might even be half-elven children with big green eyes in the mix somewhere along the line.

“What’s wrong?” Al asked, worriedly leaning over to look into my bowl. “I followed Nettie’s recipe exactly! It shouldn’t taste funny!” He shot a desperate look to Fenris. “It tastes fine, doesn’t it?” When Fenris didn’t answer immediately. “Oh. No. Did I put too much salt in again?”

I leaned over and put a hand on his shoulder. “No, it’s fine. I was just thinking.”

Alistair’s tense shoulders relaxed a little. “Don’t do that to me Ellie.”

“Better soup than the last batch Leandra made.” Fenris told him. “Don’t tell her I told you that.”

The templar’s shoulders relaxed fully, while his cheeks stained a light pink. “It isn’t that good.”

Yeah. I could live like this.

There were two things I made abundantly clear to Fenris when we decided that were actually going to do this and have a relationship. If he chose to go home at night, I was still cuddling with Alistair, for one. The other was that if he chose to stay over and we heard Alistair having a nightmare, I’d be going into Alistair’s room until the episode was over. Fenris seemed fine with it, though time would tell. 

He went home for the night around ten bells and Alistair and I shuffled off to bed.

“I’ve been talking to Anders.” Alistair told me after we’d settled under the blankets.

Though he couldn’t see me, I raised an eyebrow. “About?”

“Being wardens. Can’t get him to talk rationally to me usually, not with Justice still angry about the time I used smite on him.”

“You’re the best defence against Justice. He needs to remember he’s no longer a benevolent spirit of the fade.”

“Well the rest of us know that, but Justice doesn’t appreciate it.”

I shook my head. “Wynn managed to meld seamlessly with the spirit of faith. Anders’ rage takes Justice somewhere dark. He’s just lucky he hasn’t sprouted all those ugly bits and started trying to eat kids.”

Unintentionally that brought up the memory of the orphanage in the alienage. If I closed my eyes I could still hear that ghostly little girl.  _ But I'm dying Ser Wilhem, Ser Wilhem.  _ Again, for the thousandth time, I cursed Loghain’s soul and hoped he rotted in hell. Those poor kids. Those poor elves that we didn’t save, that we didn’t know about until after. I will never regret killing that Magister before he could talk about his deal. I will never, in  _ my life _ , regret putting an arrow in his neck and watching him choke to death on his own blood.

“Hey,” Alistair wrapped an arm around me and pulled me in against his chest. “Where are you? Where did you go?”

The steady thump of his heart helped settle my thoughts. “The orphanage.”

He squeezed me tighter. “Don’t Ellie. We couldn’t have known.”

He’s right. We couldn’t have. I wiped at my eyes. “So why were you talking to Anders when Justice despises you?”

“We’ve been talking about something, and I wanted to pass it by you.” He shifted around for a moment and let go of me. Uh oh. “Anders has a theory.”

“He doesn’t have the best ideas.”

“No, he doesn’t, but then this one isn’t too beyond the realm of what is possible.” More shifting. Now I’m really not looking forward to what he has to say.

“Spit it out Al. You’re making me nervous.”

“I mentioned the Urn when I had that argument with Aveline, remember?”

I did. It was a few months ago, but I distinctly remembered. She had said something about believing the Wardens had just done whatever they wanted and Alistair lost his proverbial shit. Her education was succinct, to the point and a bitch slap to her ego. She has, in a word, refrained from making further stupid comments regarding the shit Alistair and I had to live through during the blight.

“Anders believes that one of us should try to take a pinch of ashes from the urn to see if it will cure us of the blight.”

I sat up, and reached to light one of the candles on the stand next to the bed. Herbert, my stuffed owl, lit up in a dull orange-yellow glow, plastic eyes gleaming in the light. “Say what now?”

“It makes sense,” he insisted. “I never went in. Your ribs were broken, remember? You had to stay out of the temple so Wynne could heal you after that fight with the dragon. I remember Aedan saying they couldn’t go in again to retrieve more because they’d already passed the test and taken a pinch. If that’s true, then we could all go in.”

“No, we couldn’t. Anders would have to go in separately.”

Alistair huffed, “I know. But it makes sense. We could go in with separate groups. I was thinking, maybe you, me and someone else could travel to Ferelden, and see if it works. If it does work, we’ll send word ahead and come back. Then Hawke can go with Anders, and others and we’ll both be free of the calling. I could live a normal life Ellie. Have a wife and children. I won’t have to go to the deep roads in twenty years!”

Theoretically, it was possible. It could work. It could also not work.

“Okay.”

Al, in the middle of working on talking me into it, paused and blinked at me in surprise. “What?”

“Okay. Let’s try.”

The smile that spread across his face said a million happy words. “Really?”

“Really. But I’m not fighting a dragon again. That’s up to you and whoever else is coming with us, if he agrees to go with us. And we are absolutely not taking Merrill she gives me an epic headache of epic proportions.”

“I was thinking Varric.”

“Absolutely not. The last thing either of us needs him getting more information about us for his epic tales.”

“Isabella then.”

“I’ll ask her, otherwise she’ll think you’re propositioning her and Hawke.”

He paused again, thinking it out. “Right. Yes. Best if you ask.” He sat back against a one of the pillows and the headboard. “We’re really doing it.”

“Yep.” I blew out the candle. “Now let’s get some sleep before eleven bells. I’m so tired, it isn’t even funny.”

I sat very patiently looking Cullen in the eye as I asked for the third time, politely, to have Hawke’s sister Bethany furloughed for approximately four weeks. He did not seem pleased. Neither had the two people I went to before being passed along to him. I know he redeems himself in the end but holy hell, all I can see is the man I was ready to put down for wanting to cull the mages. I wore my best dress, the one that showed off the girls, reminded him of who I was and what I and my friends had done for him on multiple occasions and wore my best winning smile.

It didn’t seem to be working.

“It probably won’t be that long.” I told him. “We simply need a healer with us. She is the best that I know.” Don’t say you owe me. Don’t say it. Oh boy did I want to say it.

“I will discuss it further with the First Enchanter.” He told me after several moments of stoic silence. He was also as polite as possible, though short. 

“And Bethany herself. She is, after all, from Ferelden like you. She might want to see the circle there when we pass it. I’m sure First Enchanter Irving would be happy to meet with her and to know how you’re doing in your new position.”

I watched his face falter. I wonder if he’d even thought of Irving or the Ferelden circle anymore. Besides, I wanted to figure out if the Amell mage was even there. Hawke and Bethany had a cousin they didn’t even know about. Maybe. She or he could have been killed wayback when and I would never have known. 

“What is your goal in Ferelden?”

“A friend is visiting his family in Redcliffe, and we are helping another friend retrieve some family heirlooms from the deep roads. We’ve been before, during the blight. It should be much better down there now that the blight is over.”

He stood, motioning me toward the door. “As I said, I will discuss it further with the First Enchanter.” Then after a breath, “and Bethany herself.”

I smiled. Gotcha. “Thank you. And I apologize for my behavior when you came to retrieve her. I don’t regret being there and helping to save all of those people.” He grimaced at me, trying to smile and failing. Ah shit. Maybe I did fuck this up.

“How’d it go?” Varric asked, managing to wait a full three seconds after I’d exited the Templar building.

“That whole place gives me the heebie jeebies.”

“The creepy crawlies?” He jibed.

We strolled, quickly, away and began making our way toward Hawke’s where Alistair was supposed to be waiting for us after having retrieved Fenris. Anders had ventured out of Dark Town to meet us as well. We were all hoping that Bethany would be allowed to help us out. The plan, as it were, was simple. We were going to go over it one more time with our available people in the loop for good measure.

“Did you pay off the people you needed to pay off?”

Varric gave me a dirty look. “Say that out loud where the rest of the city can hear you.”

“Science proves that people will try to listen to your conversations more if you whisper than if you just talk nonchalantly. So, did you?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

We rounded a corner entering the High Town Market. Merchants charging far too much for mediocre goods hawking their wares. “Sure you don’t.” I said as we moved through the rows of stalls. “Just like you don’t pay off the guards not to arrest Merrill for jumping the wall into the Viscount’s garden. Just like you didn’t pay off the guards when Alistair kept running his mouth. Just like you don’t pay people to not see Ander’s clinic.”

He scowled at me. “Ellie, you know too much sometimes.”

“Yeah, tell that to my family who is convinced I know jack and shit in that order.”

Up the stairs among the afternoon bustle of people going to and from. We arrived at Hawke’s house with time to spare before the meeting. Alistair was already inside, Fenris and Isabella as well. No sign of Anders.

“Feels like we just did this.” Varric told me as he went for his traditional hang out spot. 

Sandal found me within seconds. I ruffled his hair. “Hello cutie. What's new?”

He blushed, bowing his head a little. “Miss ‘Lyria.” He held out one hand, a small, thin rune in his palm. The rune looked similar to the lightning runes I used in my old weapons, except it was missing a flourish here and there.

Crouching down a bit, I tried to get eye level with him. “What's this then Sandal?” 

“He's been working on that for a while now Miss Elyria. Off and on, that is.” Bodhan informed me. “Years, really. Smallest rune I've ever seen my boy make. Only one I have ever seen him work on that long.”

It was almost the size of a quarter. “How many years?”

“Since we returned from the deep roads with Sirrah Hawke, I believe.”

Why? I didn't say it out loud. Again I turned it over. The rune on the back was also slightly different. Both looked similar to a lightning rune, but each were missing a line here or a line there. “Sandal, what does this do?”

He gave me that shy, happy smile of his and planted a big old smooch on my left cheek. Bodhan excused himself and retreated to the kitchen. 

“What is it?” Isabella plucked the time from me and promptly dropped it. “Ow!”

I snatched it from the floor, rubbing it in my top to clean it. “What do you mean ow? It isn't active.”

She rubbed her fingers on her clothing repeatedly, like she was trying to remove something. “It felt like a bee sting. How can you not feel that?”

It felt like warm stone to me. Actually, now that I thought about it, the stone  _ was _ a couple of degrees warmer than body temperature. We had apparently caught Alistair and Fenris attention now. The two joined Isabella and myself. One side was pointed up, the other with the runes facing downward.

“That has to be the smallest rune I've ever seen.” Al went to touch it as well when I had an idea.

I touched the side to the top of my tongue and we rewarded with a familiar zap. “Holy mother of god.” Sandal made me a  ** _battery_ ** . How in the name of everything did he know how to make a battery? Years Bodhan said. Sandal had been working on it for years. Years of trial and error. Did I ever describe a battery to him? 

No, no to him. To Zevran and Wynne once, and to Shale. He must have overhead me and figured it out. The top was the positive charge, and the reverse side a negative charge. Holy crap. Sandal was genius. “Sandal!”

The boy scooted out of the kitchen, looking shy and a little bit wary. 

“You beautiful, brilliant boy.” I crouched down and have him two big wet kisses on each cheek and one in his forehead. “Thank you, so, so much. This is amazing. You are amazing.” For good measure I hugged him tight. 

“Do either of you know what she's going on about?” Alistair asked to the room in general.

I couldn't help but laugh.


	21. Part Two, Chapter Ten

Chapter 21

The ride from Kirkwall to Denerim wasn’t quite as bumpy as I remembered. Oh the ship rolled like mother nature was trying to toss all of our cookies at once, don’t get me wrong. It just didn’t seem to last as long once we were far enough away from the storm coast runoff. Bethany and Alistair seemed to suffer the worst of it. Once they both got their proverbial sea legs their faces stopped turning different shades of green.

Bethany watched the horizon, and the view of a distant Denerim slowly growing larger. “Good morning,” she smiled at me with that smile I’d missed for years. Sunshine and rainbows this girl, despite living in the Gallows under twitchy templars.

“You were up with the dawn again, weren’t you?”

Her shoulders rose and fell in a nonchalant resignation. “I haven’t been able to watch a sunrise in years. I want to make as many memories while I’m away as I can.”

Not for the first time I wished the circle in Kirkwall would fall of its own accord. “Plenty of memories this trip B, I promise.” 

“Mother told me that I’ve been to Denerim. Carver and I were small. I don’t remember it though.”

“I’ve been a few times. Alistair’s distant family has an estate there. We shouldn’t stay long though. Al and I don’t have a lot of warm and fuzzy memories here. His sister is a nasty piece of work.”

I also had some people I wanted to check up on. Shiani and Gorim at the top of my list. And boy did I have list:

  1. Stop at the Brecilian forest to see if the Dalish clan had come through again, and a quick chat with Master Valen if they had. 
  2. See if Alistair would be okay with checking on his brother’s grave in Ostagar. 
  3. Then to Redcliffe if Alistair was feeling brave. 
  4. See if Bethany wanted to see her old home if she was feeling brave. 
  5. On to Haven if neither of them felt okay with revisiting the past. 
  6. Once we’re out of Haven, we’d know the answer to that burning question, would the ashes cure Alistair or not.

See? Legitimate list here folks.

If it did work we could cure Anders. Somewhat. He would always be an abomination and therefore, always dangerous. No doubt he’d still go batshit crazy by the time the third act was coming to a close. I planned for our little troupe to be back before then.

Plans. Listen to me, making shit up as I go along. I actually had plans to try to change things. One could hope, deeply, seriously hope, that none of these plans would count as the hubris that would break the world. I’d seen too many movies and read too many books to know I wouldn’t pay for it in the end. The main character of these kinds of stories always pays for their arrogance.

Still…I wanted to take Bethany to the Ferelden Circle and see if there was anything the First Enchanter could do for her. Maybe they had transfers? Meanwhile, drop requests around Ferelden about a golem that had no control rod. I wanted to see if Shale might be alive and well and snarky as ever. After that we’d go home again.

Home. When did I start thinking of Kirkwall as home?

Lanky dark arms enveloped me from behind. “Good morning,” a warm voice whispered in my ear before planting a kiss on my cheek.

I smiled and turned my head to kiss him properly. “Hello handsome.”

Bethany giggled, a soft blush coloring her pale cheeks. “You two are perfect for each other, I hope you know that.”

Fenris made a grumpy noise, betrayed only by the crinkle of a smile around his eyes. We made each other happy, and that is all either of us could really ask for. Happiness.

“I thought you’d sleep a little longer,” I said, pushing white strands out of his eyes.

“Not for lack of trying,” he sighed. “Alistair’s snoring was impossible to ignore even with cotton in my ears.”

The boys were forced to bunk together while Bethany and myself did the same. The captain had been more than happy to have us aboard for whatever Varric had negotiated and paid him, but not if the boys were sharing rooms with girls while none of us were married. Bah. Puritans. 

The snoring must have been caused by the hammocks we were forced to sleep in because I absolutely had no issues with Al snoring before. Or maybe I was so used to it I didn’t notice.

I did, however, notice that the temperature had dropped significantly the further south we went. By the time the boat docked near midday, I was pulling on an extra layer for warmth. I suppose that proved my theory from years ago, the southern reaches of Thedas were colder than the north. Of course, I’d never been to somewhere like Seheron, but from what Fenris said, it was tropical.

Come to think of it… I really hadn’t been anywhere in Thedas except the places I sort of knew from the game. 

As I stepped back onto solid ground, I checked my bag. Herbert’s plastic eyes picked up the light of the sun. Yes, I brought some of my stuff with me. I didn’t know how long we’d be gone, but I supposed about a month. I laughed a little and continued my visual double check of my bag. There were so many fictional places in this fictional world that I hadn’t…

Oh. Oh! Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. I am one stupid woman, seriously. Or rather Flemeth could have come right out and said it. I mean, honestly, what was all that build up for? ‘What do you see traveler?’ I could have slapped her.

The answer was nothing. Nothing at all, because there is nothing there. 

I’m not really here because here doesn’t really  ** _exist. _ ** I looked around at the world, Bethany in front and to the left of me, Alistair directly in front of me and Fenris to my right. I stopped walking and really looked at the world. What do you see traveler? I reached out and tried to grab Fenris’ arm only to have my hand go through his elbow. He never stopped moving. 

I looked down and my hands were solid, but the world wasn’t. The cobblestone ground streets were fuzzy, like when you’re too tired to focus. I looked up and the sky was the same, the blue patched with white was nearly gray and devoid of color. My outfit, a purple shirt with a red and blue embroidered vest, brown pants and black boots had faded to shades of deep gray, dark gray and pale gray.

And then the ground swallowed me.

I woke, sore, tired and uncomfortable on the floor of a classroom. A thankfully empty classroom. Desks on one side of me, and desks on the other. The room was dark, while the sky outside was much darker than the one I’d just left. The heaters were on in the classroom, as I found when I touched my hand to one of them. The smell of burnt dust was an almost pleasant comfort. I hadn’t smelled that in years. Firewood doesn’t tend to gather dust.

My clothes from home, the stuff I left on that manquin back in Kirkwall now felt like a baggie mess on my much thinner frame. I lost all my baby fat a long time ago. My old bag with all my old stuff, excluding things I’d sold. My sneakers, however, were present and accounted for and on my feet. The person that bought them was going to have a rude surprise back in Thedas. 

Herbert the owl had made his way home too. I took him out and sighed. 

“If you could talk bud.” He looked patiently up at me, silent as always.

Distantly I heard the school clock tower chime. One, two, three, four. Four pm? Classes would still be in session, so where was everyone? I made my way outside, the doors to the Dawkins building were unlocked. Snow, piles and piles of snow everywhere. Snow day, it had to be. The walkways hadn’t even been shoveled entirely. There wasn’t any salt or traction sand on the ground.

Shivering as a blast of arctic wind hit me, I put my hood up and I began to hustle my butt toward the administration building. 

There were people in the dorms as I passed. A few of them spared me a glance, but there weren’t as many people as I thought there should be. Did I show up during one of the breaks? It was too bright at around four in the afternoon to be deep winter, not this far north. Spring break, probably. Right before Easter.

Easter. Mom liked to order catering in advance. She hated to cook. Even if she wasn’t there, our housekeeper would pick up the food and have it sitting on the table by dinner time. My stomach rumbled in response to food. Then I passed the dining halls, and my stomach did the equivalent of a toddler with a temper tantrum.

I walked into the administration building, wondering if my student ID was still good to get me something to eat. The women behind the front counter were exactly the same women that were there when I had gone to school here. The tall blonde woman sitting at the desk looked up, a small smile.

“We’re closing soon, hun. What did you need?”

I tried to smile at her, but I hadn’t really brushed my teeth in years. Hell I hadn’t had a decent shower with soap in years. I was instantly self conscious about how I looked and smelled. “I’m Elyria Duke. I think I’ve been missing for a while.”

I could almost see the wheels turning behind her eyes, the neurons firing, and then, as if in slow motion, her eyes turned to the board on the wall behind me. I turned a little too. My face, my baby face, before a semi-medieval diet and fights with dragons, stared back at me from a missing poster half covered by flyers for groups and meetings.. I turned back to her before her eyes left the poster.

Again, I tried to smile.

During a flurry of people inquiring if I was okay, and someone calling the cops, someone heard my stomach growling in protest and took me to the dining hall. There was so much food in front of me, I stood frozen unable to think about what to eat. One of the women from the administrative office who decided to accompany me told me to take a seat, and she’d get food for me. I nodded numbly and shuffled off to the very back of the room.

Some of the students stared, and I couldn’t blame them. I looked older, a lot older than I had when I left even though it was only a few years. They were children, and they hadn’t lived through what I lived through. The smells of perfume and hair gel, and body spray assaulted my nose. Ugh.

“Here you go sweetie.” A tray slid in front of me. Pasta with tomato sauce and meatballs, two pieces of garlic bread, a small plastic tub of grated cheese and a glass of either Coke or Pepsi.

“Thank you,” I told her and tentatively took the plastic fork in one hand. 

“You eat that and I’ll grab you a dessert.” She was painfully nice to me, all smiles that didn’t reach her eyes and sympathy in every note of her tone. It made me feel bad for being there. “What do you like? There’s rice pudding, custard and a couple of others I didn’t get the name of.”

“Chocolate pudding, if they have it, please.”

“Of course sweetie. Do you want some cookies with that?” And I watched her look over my frame again. She probably didn’t realize a lot of this was muscle. I lifted heavy bags of flour, huge trays of pastries and beat the shit out of mercenaries for a living. I could beat Isabella armwrestling nine times out of ten.

“Yes, if you don’t mind.” I’d eat them. My stomach walls were literally rubbing against one another demanding food.

While she went in search of sweet snacks, I stabbed a meatball and popped it in my mouth. My taste buds exploded in joy. So did my eyes. By the time she came back, I was blubbering like a newborn while stuffing my face like a hamster. To her credit, she said nothing. I ate, and cried, and when I was finished with dinner, I devoured the cookies, the pudding and the bowl of strawberry ice cream too.

When I was finally all cried out, the dining hall was empty and the servers were emptying the cooking stations. “Should we leave?” I asked the woman, who I could not remember the name of.

“No sweetie, the police want to talk to you. They should be here in a few minutes.”

Cops? I wiped my mouth with one of the paper napkins from the napkin holder. My stomach was full, more full than I’d been in years. “Did someone call my parents?”

“I don’t know hun, but I can check once the police are here.” That pitying tone again.

I had the feeling I would be getting that a lot for quite a while. Did they want to do the interview here? I looked around the room again. I suppose it made a good interview room. 

I remember eating in this dining hall with my friends. The school had done some work in here. The tiles behind the cooking stations were changed, and there was a salad bar now. I forgot what it was called, this dining hall. Through the set of double glass doors there was the smaller take out area where I used to frequent when I wanted to play video games instead of study.

The reality of it hit me. I left everyone behind. Fenris. I left Fenris behind. Oh god. Scrubbing my hand over my face, I fought back more tears. I left Alistair before they ever had a chance to get near the urn of sacred ashes. Bethany, on her first trip away since Cullen took her away to the Gallows. 

They probably thought I was with them on the docks. My whole chest throbbed with the guilt of it. What would have happened? Fenris would flip his shit. Alistair would too. Bethany, maybe she was smart enough to get them out of the public eye before they started freaking out.

The tears started over again. Why did I have to figure it out then? Why couldn’t I have figured out and taken them with me? I buried my face in my hands and sobbed.

Voices to the left, by the doors, announced the arrival of others. Back home, in Brooklyn and down state New York, cops wear blue. Here, they wear tan, green and brown. The local sheriff, and what I’d guess was a deputy came in. Both men were bundled up, dark brown heavy coats with heavy boots and thick gloves to fight the cold. 

No doubt a mess, and puffy from crying like a newborn again, I looked up at the man that came to stand in front of me across the table.

“Miss Duke?” He asked, watching me with a critical eye.

“That’s me,” I told him through sniffles and wiping my eyes with rough napkins.

“I’m Sherriff Billings.” He nodded at the deputy who moved back toward the door. Keeping me from running I guess. The sheriff took off his heavy coat, and the gloves, setting them down on the back of the chair next to him. “You’ve become a bit of a local legend Miss Duke.”

“Why is that?”

“The girl that disappeared in the middle of class.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “How did he do it?”

Confused, “Who?”

“The man that took you.”

Of course. What other explanation would there be in the minds of those who don’t believe in weird shit happening? I shook my head. “No one took me.”

“Then you went willingly?” He asked critically as if I were a pup that needed to be scolded.

I sighed. “No. There was no one taking me, no one to go with. One minute I remember being here, the next there. No memory of anything in between.” It was true. I don’t remember going anywhere else. I was here, waiting for class to start, then there standing in the Korcari Wilds. Then I was here again, having a seizure in class, and then falling a few feet to smack down in front of Flemeth's shack in the swamps outside Ostagar. There was nothing between.

He penned the word drugged in the notepad he’d placed on the table. He thought he was being stealthy doing it behind where he’d placed his gloves, but I’ve live in a world where watching people’s hands were indicative of what they were going to do. 

Again, I sighed. Logical explanations for illogical things. Is this how Dorothy felt when they shipped her off to that quack in Return to Oz? Maybe my version of Tick Tock would come to the rescue. I doubted it, but a girl could hope.

“And where were you?”

“Not anywhere I could get home.”

“No cell access? No phones?”

I’d tried to use my phone. It had died on me. Actually. “I think I still have it, if you want to see it.” He nodded at me. I reached down into my bag and after a little digging came up with my dead cell. I put it in front of him. “It died after a few days, even though it was off most of the time. No reception there. Eventually I forgot I had it.” I rolled my shoulders for emphasis. “Out of sight, out of mind.”

“And you never attempted to charge it?”

“How could I do that? I didn’t have a way to charge it.”

“Most third world countries have chargers.”

“They do, but what makes you believe I had access to a charger?”

He looked me over again, no doubt seeing how much thinner I was. I estimate, I don’t know, not yet anyway, that I’d probably gone from around a size ten to a six maybe. My clothes swam on me. I’d taken the sweat shirt off as soon as I could and my long sleeved shirt hung loosely.. Would he mention that my face was sharper, more angular? My wrists bony?

He made another note on his pad. Defensive. Possible Stockholm.

“I’d like to take you to the hospital, have a doctor check you over. Run a few tests.”

“No. Thank you.”

Sheriff Billings’ demeanor hardened. “If you want to catch the people holding you captive-”

“No one was holding me captive.” I knew in that instant, no one was ever going to believe me. Steadfast, in a slow, calm and even tone I told him, “I was not taken. The only thing your tests will tell you is that I am somewhat malnourished, and sleep deprived.” I have a mild case of PTSD and I have scars I didn’t have before. 

Well, no maybe I didn’t. Come to think of it. If Thedas wasn’t real, which it wasn’t, then a shriek didn’t cut my shoulder open. Surreptitiously I rolled my shoulder to see if I could still feel the tell tale tug on my muscles. Nothing.

He gave me that hard look, the one cops on television can’t quite capture but real cops could pull off without trying.

“I would, however, like to call my parents and go home.”

The sheriff closed his notepad. “Why did you come back here if you wanted to go home?”

“I didn’t choose here Sheriff. Like I said before, I was there and then I was here. There was no in between, no memory of going to or from.” No one is ever going to believe that.

There were several long calls, one to the FBI, while I waited for them to get a hold of my mom and dad. Who were, as it turns out, vacationing in Nepal. My brother was on his honeymoon (he wasn’t married when I left) and couldn’t come back. The only one left was Viola, my eldest sister.

Vi and I hadn’t been talking when I left for school. I remembered why too. Her husband irritated me. She married him because he had the right family, the right job, the right everything according to what society dictated. Me, being the anti-conventional, non-confirmative type, never really got along with him. He didn’t like me either. I was too wild. I caught him telling my parents to start me on the right drugs to make me more  ** _compliant_ ** . No one was going to want me in the future if I stayed the way I was.

Didn’t matter to him I was over the age eighteen and they couldn’t do that without stripping me of my personal autonomy and rights. Vi and I fought about him being a toxic individual (read as controlling piece of shit) and then we stopped talking.

I had no idea what to say to her now.

Viola would the first flight out of JFK to Albany and drive the rest of the way with a rental car. 

I ended up in an empty dorm room on a plastic mattress and crappy sheets someone picked up at the local Walmart. It was so strange after sleeping on a mattress made of straw and cotton for so long. The hammocks on the ship were more comfortable. The bed creaked and made plastic crinkling sounds when I moved around.

I found myself unable to sleep much of the night. The sounds were so different and I didn’t have a lanky elf or a St. Bernard of a man snuggling up to me. Instead, I used my now charged cell to venture into my Facebook. My page was literally flooded with both kind and unkind messages. After scrolling through enough ridiculousness to make me want to slap someone, I went through and began reporting, deleting and blocking people. Once that was accomplished I checked the news. 

Which was an epic mistake. I guess the Simpsons hadn’t been too far off.

Eventually I did drift off, and slept restlessly with dreams I couldn’t remember.

The women in the office gave me a temporary ID card, free of charge. The tall blonde woman who I’d first approached assured me it would get me a few days worth of meals just in case my family didn’t show up right away. She also fished a charger out of the lost and found and gave it to me as a loaner.

I woke, not entirely rested, around five thirty in the morning. At least that is what my newly charged phone said. Later than I would have normally been awake if I had to work at Nettie’s. God...Nettie. She wasn’t real either. Come to think of it. I got up, making sure I took the code for the lock on the door and ventured to the dorm bathroom down the hall. No one was awake yet. I stripped my shirt off and moved my bra aside to look at my scars.

Gone. The one from the shriek, a thick long line from collarbone to upper shoulder, had vanished with my return to reality. I turned around, looking for the stab from a carta dwarf four inches left of my spine and much too close to my kidneys. Nothing. Smooth skin and that’s it. I pulled my shirt back on and went for the one on the back of my thigh, feeling for it and found it missing as well. A shade had gotten me in the Brecilian forest. The one on the back of my calf was gone too. Lucky, or rather, unlucky slave hunter after Fenris’.

_ Fenris. _

My chest throbbed at the same time my throat closed and my eyes welled with tears. We only just realized we wanted to be together. In the handful of days between returning to Kirkwall and leaving for Ferelden, we were together. Now the only way I’d see him is if I turned on Dragon Age II and watched him be romantic with someone else. It hurt. It hurt more than anything I’d ever felt before. 

More than the moment Aedan chose to be prince consort over our engagement.

“You idiot,” I bitterly snapped at my teary eyed, red faced reflection. “Why did you have to go and figure shit out?”

The blonde in the mirror didn’t answer me.

Around six thirty, after a shower (god did I miss those), and finger combing my hair out into a presentable mess, I headed toward the dining halls. Viola would be here by eight or nine, depending on how quickly her flight landed and the rental place gave her a car. I’d have to kill time until then. First things first, food.

The smell of mass produced food hit me around thirty feet from the door. Eggs and bacon, tater tots, some kind of cinnamon-chocolate carbohydrate and under it all, animal fat and oil. My stomach practically dragged me the rest of the way. I picked up a tray, a plate and utensils and let my hunger lead me. I hadn’t had high fat foods in nearly five years.

Once my plate was piled high with scrambled eggs, two cinnamon rolls, a whole secondary plate of tater tots, bacon, sausage and a pile of edamame from the salad bar I sat down and proceeded to stuff my face. Milk, where was the milk? I deposited my tray and took two small containers of milk from one of the mini refrigerators on top of the counter by the desserts. Ooo, dessert. Pausing, one milk in each hand, I looked down at the tray of fruit, then over at the tray of chocolate scones and brownies.

Thank Andraste, my coordination was better than it was before. I juggled one green apple, one slice of brownie and an orange with the two cartons of milk on my way back to the table. People were beginning to filter in now. I looked at my phone, and found it to be a Thursday. I guess those that stayed during spring break still had to get out to work or were early risers.

I paid them no mind while I shovel my face with food. My parents had turned off my cell service, but I still had access to the internet with the school’s free wifi. Overnight my Facebook page had exploded. Apparently Viola had told someone who told someone else. Kerry, Emma and Brandon Lee had left very similar messages on my page. All of them demanded I call them immediately.

I tagged them all in the same message.  _ Can’t call, cell no longer works. Will contact you once I get a new one. Missed you. _

The other messages were people I knew who asked, basically, the same thing. What happened? Where were you? How did you get away? Are you safe now? Is anyone going to come after you?

Those I didn’t answer. There wasn’t any answer anyone would believe.

There were more people in the dining hall now, and a few of them were watching me. They whispered back and forth to each other, something along the line of “who is that” and “who is she” I’m sure. My face, as I found, was posted in nearly every office as a missing person. They recognized me, but couldn’t place how. Probably at least one commenting on the amount of food on my tray.

Eventually I finished and stuffed the orange and apple in my bag. My fingers brushed against something hard, cold and small. Pausing in my cleaning up, I dug in the bag for whatever it was. My fingers clasped around it and pulled it away from the depths of my Mary Poppins bag. I nearly dropped it when I realized what it was.

Sandal’s battery.


	22. Part Two, Chapter Eleven

Chapter 22:

My sister…is a hippie. It is kind of hard to get my head around even though we’ve been riding in the car together for nearly two and a half hours on our way back down to NYC. My sister, Lawyer Barbie, has become a  _ hippie _ . Her shoes are sensible brown boots, a floor length skirt is plain jane blue with flowery designs spreading out from one corner, her hair is long, not as long as mine but longer than I’ve ever seen her wear and up in a loose, messy bun, and her shirt is a loose, white cream sweater with a gentle swirling pattern. On one of her wrists, instead of her signature Dolce & Gabbana watch, were a series of bracelets, each with a different weave and gemstone. 

When she arrived at the school, I hadn’t recognized her. She pulled up in a small car with a an eco sticker prominently displayed on the rear bumper. My sister, Lawyer Barbie, would have rented something flashier. That’s what I’d been watching for. Her husband’s huge ego and the car she would have rented to compensate.

Instead this willowy blonde, with long skirt, and a long green Old Navy esque jacket walked up to the doors. I watched her open the door and walk in, make the handful of turns it took to get to the front office and walk up to the desk. There she said, “I’m Viola Duke, I’m here for my sister Elyria.”

The deputy, because I guess the Sheriff had other more important things to do, left my side to approach her. “Ma’am.”

She pulled off one glove and extended a hand. My jaw sort of dropped. This couldn’t be my sister. First, Viola was always more buxom than me. She was epitome of a body that could stop a truck. Second, the outfit. Vi would never wear those clothes. Anything by The Gap was beneath her.

While I stared at this stranger who looked like my sister, same face, same eyes, same natural hair color from our childhood, the deputy spoke with her. I heard, vaguely, the words trauma, therapy, and stockholm. He advised her that when I was ready to testify, to call then he handed her a card. I’d have to find it and throw it out later.

Viola, this new and hippie Viola, then walked over to me and smiled a real smile. Not the Regina George plastic smile she’d begun using in High School. This was the warm, real smile from my childhood when she was still human and not growing into mom’s tiny clone. “Elyria?”

I blinked at this stranger and stood. And then, I realized something else. My sister, who always seemed so much bigger than me, was actually my height. We were eye to eye. Had I grown? I must have, because Viola had a few inches on me that last summer when I was home.

“I know I look different,” I said, unsure of what exactly to do and say.

Her head tilted a little, “And you sound different.”

I blinked at her. What? “I do?”

Her fingers came up, she pinched them together with a tiny space between. “A little bit.” One finger came up and booped my nose. I blinked at her some more. She hadn’t done that since I was a little girl. “That nose though. That’s a nose I could never forget.”

“Vi…” At that moment I realized my sister wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. I grabbed her hand, and then glanced at her neck once satisfied that there was no ring. Not even a tan line. “George?”

“Facing several lawsuits at work for sexual harrassment I believe. That’s the rumor anyway, I no longer work for that firm.” She smiled brightly at me again, “And I divorced his controlling, self obsessed loser ass a few years ago.”

The words tickled my ears. That’s what I called him in the fight we had. I called him a controlling image obsessed loser. The corners of my mouth curled a little. “Image obsessed,” I corrected her. “Told you, you are so much better than him.”

“Took me long enough to see it. Come on.” She took one of my hands in hers, “Let’s get you home.”

Now we’re two and a half hours into the nearly six hour ride and I’m having a little trouble wrapping my head around reality. My parents were not actually vacationing in Nepal and India. They were there with Doctors Without Borders. My parents, the surgeons bent on making their careers, were volunteering to  _ aid people _ . My brother Sebastian, their golden boy, hadn’t had a real job in years and was living off wife number three. 

Viola laughed at my incredulous expression. “Do you want Burger King? There’s a rest stop coming up.”

Did my sister seriously ask me if I want fast food? “Um, yeah. Sure.”

She put on her signal and got into the right lane, then pulled off on the ramp that lead around to the rest stop. “Ooo, look Starbucks too. I could use a strawberry banana smoothie.”

“Who are you and what have you done with the old Viola?” I asked as we got out of the car. “You would have yelled at me for the carbs and fat content three years ago.”

“That’s when I had a stick up my ass.” She turned her back towards me, stuck her butt out a little and said, “No stick, see?”

I couldn’t help laughing.

“I think I’ve placed the accent.” Viola said hours later as we were turning down old familiar streets. The traffic around Manhattan had been insanity. Bumper to bumper.

“What accent?” I asked watching buildings I’ve known all my life come and go. It felt so strange to be home.

“Your accent. You still sound like you, but a little more…british. Like Elijah Wood did after filming Lord of the Rings.” Again, floored that my sister even knew what Lord of the Rings was.

“The series was filmed in New Zealand.”

“But everyone had a british or scottish accent.” She ticked a finger at me. “And that is exactly how you sound. You’ve got your light Brooklyn and then an overtone of brit. I half expect you to ask for the loo.”

Make water. That’s what you said when you had to pee. There are things about Thedas I do not miss. Orzammar had better plumbing than most of Thedas. Pretty much all of the buildings we went into in the Dwarven Capital had a couple of water closets. I do not miss the piss pots or wiping with water and rag.

Another few blocks and we were back to the brownstone that we had grown up in. The building seemed so much smaller than I remembered. Viola managed to get a parking spot across the street and a few spaces up. She got out while I sat apprehensively thinking about the reality of being home. Not more than a day ago, which seemed more like a distant lifetime less than a day, I had called Kirkwall home.

Slowly, I got out of the car. Viola was already across the street talking to a black haired woman in scrubs and a heavy peacoat. I watched them interact, hugging and talking. Did I know that person? I think so. She was smaller than me, which didn’t seem right. Then she turned to me and I realized who she was. Emma.

Watching for cars I hurried across the street to my old roommate and best friend. Now I know that I’d grown. Emma had always been an inch or so shorter back in our college days. She stood at least two or three inches shorter than me, the same round face now with the addition of contact lenses. “Ems?”

“You’re so tall!” She said, grabbing my arms and turning me a bit. “And skinny!” One of her hands squeezed my arm, “with some serious muscles.”

I could feel my face burning. “You’re officially a nurse now?”

“Yeah, I mean, I graduated got a job, doing the whole adult thing now.”  
The whole adult thing now. I almost wanted to shake her. I’d been doing the adult thing for years.

“Let’s get inside,” Viola said, the cold clouding with the warmth of her breath. “Come on.”

Up the stairs we went, Emma chatting the whole time about Brandon trying to get off early from work to come by and Kerry trying to get a flight back. “She moved to Colorado about a year ago. The long term boyfriend turned out to be Mister Right after all and they eloped to Aspen one weekend. Then the two of them moved to Boulder and they’ve been living happily ever after since.” She checked her phone. “Brandon said he’ll be here soon.”

“Kerry’s really too far along to be trying to fly,” Viola tsked. 

“Kerry’s pregnant?” The words fell from my mouth with disbelief. Kerry didn’t like kids. Kerry didn’t want kids. She practically attacked anyone who said she’d change her mind. She had been trying to convince a doctor to get her tubes tied over winter break back when Thedas became my reality.

“Yeah,” Emma shook her head. “I can’t believe it either. She said she did it because the husband begged her for a baby. She told him fine, one, just one, and that’s all.”

Kerry. Pregnant. What a trip.

There was more talking, between Emma and my sister. It would have taken a fool not to notice in my absence they’d become friends. Emma knew her way around the kitchen well enough for me to realize she had been here a lot. While I took a seat at the island counter, the two of them went about setting up food, drink and chatting away like this was just another in a long line of chats.

They reminded me of that last night in Kirkwall. Alistair and Fenris getting around the common room like they were born to it. It struck me that I would never see that again. I would never come up stairs from work and find them attempting to make dinner together. 

“Shh,” someone said before a pair of warm arms went around me. Emma, she had pulled a seat up next to me and leaned in, rubbing my back and stroking my hair.

I hadn’t realized I was crying again.

“You’re okay,” Emma said softly, “you’re home and you’re okay.”

_ Home. _ Where was home? Was it snuggling against a teddy bear of a man who knew the demons in my head because they were the same ones in his? Was it in the bed of an elf who loved me the way I loved him? Was it back in Kirkwall where a game of Wicked Grace and beer was a weekly date with all my friends? 

Or was it here with family and friends I grew up with, that knew me all my life?

“I know,” Emma told me while rubbing my back. “This is a huge difference isn’t it? Being home, being with people you know and love.”

I knew and loved my friends in Thedas. The words almost spilled out but I couldn’t say that. Not to Emma. She knew what Thedas was, she’d been with me through enough campaign playthroughs to know. What would she say, or do, if she found out I spent the last five years of my life in a video game?

She’d think I’d lost my damn mind, that’s what.

The tears subsided and I wiped at my face sheepishly. Since when did I become such a crybaby? “I’m really happy to be home,” I sort of lied. It was good being here, seeing that they’d found common ground and become friends in my absence. It hurt, too, seeing my best friend of many years better acquainted with my sister than me.

“We’re glad you’re home.” Viola reached across the counter and squeezed my hand. “We missed you.” Then she laced our fingers. “I missed you so much. It was awful here, mom was losing her mind with grief and dad was using every ounce of influence he’d ever gotten to try and find out what happened.”

I could practically feel the question waiting on the tips of their tongues. What did happen? Especially from Emma. She’d been holding me when I went. I remembered feeling her arms and her legs under my back and then… Thedas.

Except neither of them asked. Viola gave my hand one more squeeze and went to see the whistling tea kettle. Emma’s phone jingled a song I didn’t know. Lord, five years, how much music did I have to catch up on?

“Brandon’s here,” Emma announced fifteen seconds before the whirlwind that was Brandon Lee came through the front door.

I recognized him, sort of. It was him, the dark hair, the asian-american features, the voice, but everything else was simply…more. His hair, which had been a typical guy cut was now long and clearly coiffed into a modern, almost Twilight-esque pompadour. He’d finally gone all the way with his interest in makeup and had the full nine yards, eyeshadow, lipstick, highlighted and bronzed to the gods. He dropped his jacket, his expensive looking jacket, on the back of a chair and rushed to gather me up in his arms.

Brandon had grown too, by at least a foot. He’d also been working out because he crushed me in his arms to the point I almost lost my breath. “Elyria!” He pulled back, holding my upper arms and looked me over. “Girl, what the shit? You went and get model skinny without me?”

Emma smacked his arm and gave him a pointed, meaningful glare.

He returned it, hands on hips and a flick of his head.

All we were missing was a redhead to snicker and flick water in their faces. To which Brandon would scream about his mascara not being waterproof. Emma would laugh and the tension would break. Sadly we had no such redhead, as she was currently knocked up and unable to fly.

I chose to throw an orange instead.

Brandon caught it before it hit his shirt. “Lady, this is armani. You don’t throw fruit at armani.” He tossed the fruit at Emma who clearly wasn’t ready and wasn’t going to catch it.

I snatched it out of the air and put it back where it belonged, in the fruit bowl.

The whole room went quiet aside from the slow tick of the toaster oven and the buzz of the refrigerator. 

“That was…” Brandon’s voice trailed off as he tried to think of a word.

“Fast.” Emma said, almost as if she were a little stunned.

Fast? That hadn’t been very fast. He’d done an underhanded throw because of the tips on his nails. I tried a little laugh but it didn’t seem to wipe the quiet shock off their faces. Something else came at me from Viola’s direction. I wasn’t going to get my hand up fast enough to block it so I dodged. A bag of skittles slipped past my nose by centimeters.

“Since when do we keep high fructose candy in the house?”

“Since when are you coordinated and fast enough to catch and dodge?” Viola shot back. “Our parents had to take you out of gymnastics because you just were not coordinated enough to participate. You quit softball because you had trouble hitting the ball.”

“Gymnastics when I was ten! Softball was highschool, and as you might remember I broke my wrist. I joined fencing in college and I wasn’t terrible. Plus, I’m older now.” And I had a good teacher. My gut panged with guilt over Alistair. He’d been two steps ahead of me. If only I had reached out, grabbed his hand and… would he be here now?

“Older doesn’t mean you can do things you weren’t good at most of your life. It means life experience. So when and how did you learn to coordinate yourself and be aware enough to know when something is about to hit you and avoid it?”

Brandon took a seat. “Hold on, my brain is not working right now.”

Emma reached across the counter to Viola. “Vi, maybe now isn’t the right time to do this.”

“When? Before or after I manage to talk her into going to the hospital for tests?”

“I’m not going to the hospital.” I told her flatly.

Emma touched my arm. “We just want to make sure you are okay.”

I felt in my bones that this would end up an argument with everyone, repeatedly, because no one would be able to wrap the minds around the reality. I didn’t need a doctor telling me I’d be alright. “I’m going to say this once, to all of you. I. Am. Not. Going. To. See. A. Doctor. I refuse. All of those horrible traumatic things that happened to me in your heads while I was gone, didn’t happen. No one assaulted me,” not in the way they were thinking, “no one hurt me,” that didn’t get maimed or worse in return, “I didn’t give birth to any secret babies or join a cult or get kidnapped. I was here one moment and there the next. There was no trauma,” besides some terrifying fucking things that only nightmares could relate to. “There was no psychological torture, physical abuse, nothing. I left some really good people behind, people I care about very much to come home to all of you, to this.” To the real world.

I sighed the deepest of sighs, feeling the lethargy pull at me. I had been so very tired through this whole return and now I could feel it seeping into my soul “Now I’m not sure I should have bothered.” I retreated to the bathroom then, unable to stomach sitting in that room with the three of them for another moment.

The woman in the mirror looked like the same woman from Thedas, and vaguely like the girl in the photos on the walls in this house. I shouldn’t have left. I shouldn’t have come back. I didn’t realize how things would be when I got back. How different I would be. My sister hadn’t been wrong, yes I’d been clumsy and occasionally uncoordinated.

Now I could fight dual handed and mimic Isabella’s fighting style. I think Zev would have been proud. Sweet Andraste’s lacy bits, listen to me, I even thought of them as real people though I knew for a fact that they weren’t real.

This was all so goddamn confusing. I knew that I’d been there. I knew that without a doubt. I also knew that world could not be real, because it was in fact a video game and nothing there, including the people existed in this world. Existed outside of a game. Maker. My head began to hurt with temporal dynamics of everything. 

After locking the bathroom door behind me I took a seat on the edge of the bath and tried to calm the stormy tempest going on inside my head. So many parts of my brain were coming to the same conclusion, while I might have believed this was home before Thedas, I knew now it wasn’t. Thedas was home and this place was purgatory.

A surreptitious knock came some time later, followed by my sister telling me, “They’re gone.”

Thank you Andr… should I go back to ‘god’ instead of the Maker and his bride? For the most part, I’d begun adapting because of Isabella’s very colorful cursing, my roommate's beliefs and my lover. Besides, nearly everyone I knew was part of the faith to Andraste save the Dalish, Sten, Shale and Oghren. 

Another decision I’d have to make if I planned to stay.

I leaned over and flipped the lock on the door open.

Gingerly my sister poked her head in. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know, are you going to attempt to drag me to a doctor?”

She frowned, glancing down and then, “No. If you don’t want to go, I won’t try to talk to you about it anymore. Mom and dad would prefer you did though.”

“Mom and dad need to remember they’re not always going to get what they want.”

“I would feel better if you did.”

“Why?”

“To be sure you’re okay.”

“But I am okay! I don’t know why you can’t see that.”

Viola sat down next to me, her long legs stretched out under the skirt. Her legs were as long as mine now. When did I get long legs? I suppose when I grew and didn’t realize it. Everyone in Thedas was taller than me save most dwarves, so it never occured to me that I might have grown in the last five years. 

“I know that you think you’re okay, but whatever happened made you a little different than the sister I knew. You’re taller, you’re faster, I feel like you could probably beat up someone up if you really wanted to.”

She’s right. I could. Except here, the closest thing to a beat down I’ll ever give is a mugger trying to get my cash, and how often will that actually happen? In New York City that was a once a year thing if I was very, very unlucky.

“I’ve watched you assess a room before walking in.”

I shrugged. “I’m aware of my surroundings.”

“And you sit with your back facing a wall. Is that so no one can come up behind you?”

No one here can watch my back the way my friends can. Rather, did. My friends used to watch my back. There I go again, thinking about people who aren’t real people as real people. I rubbed the back of my neck to ease the tension.

“You’re home now,” Viola said softly and reached her arm over my shoulders to pull me close. “You’re home and you don’t have to do those things. Those are things soldiers do, or cops. You’re not a cop. You’re not a soldier anymore.”

“I never was.” I said moving out of her hug to stand and pace. “I don’t know what you think you know Vi, but it isn’t whatever is going on in your head. I wasn’t a soldier. Most of the time I helped an older woman run a bakery and hung out with my friends.”

“Okay. Where?”

“Nowhere you’d ever heard of or will ever hear of.”

“But you want to go back?”

“Yes,” I didn’t think about it, the word just came out. “No,” I amended when her face fell. “Yes and no. I miss my friends and I didn’t leave on the right terms.” I hadn’t even said anything at all. I just poofed away, back to reality without so much as a fare thee well. 

God what did Fenris do? What did Alistiar do? Bethany had a cooler head that most people, but she was technically an apostate away from the circle. While Ferelden was quite a bit more mage friendly than the rest of Thedas, what would happen if my friends lost their shit in the middle of Denerim?

“You didn’t leave here on the right terms either, Elyria.” Her stern tone reminded me that this conversation might be heading somewhere I couldn’t dig myself out of. Could I keep telling the truth without details?

“I didn’t choose to leave my life Viola. I was here then I was there. At no point did I choose to leave you, or our family or my friends. Emma was with me in class! She saw what happened.”

“Emma’s spent five years in therapy trying to figure out what happened.”

That took the wind right out of my sails. “What? Why?”

“After you went missing, she kept insisting you had disappeared in her arms. It took a long time for her to come to terms with the fact that there was a CO2 leak in the classroom and everyone hallucinated your disappearance.”

They hadn’t. I really had phased out of reality just like I phased out of Thedas on the docks. Except here I hadn’t witnessed the fading of the word either time I went to Thedas. The first time I’d been looking down at my bag, the second I’d just suffered a seizure. I hadn’t actually been aware of what was going on. In Thedas, the stark reality of my return had made the **entire world** _transparent_.

Aside from Sandal’s battery. I could practically feel the small flat disc burning a hole in my pocket, demanding I acknowledge it. Something that didn’t truly belong here and something that never would have existed in Thedas without me. Proof I’d gone.

This is so effed up. 

“That’s awful,” I said finally. “I didn’t know.”

“Of course not, you weren’t here and she doesn’t talk about it. She told me last year after a few drinks. Before that only her fiancé knew.”

“Fiancé?” Emma was engaged? What now?

“Yeah, that guy Greg or something.”

“Jorge,” I corrected, rolling his name in my white girl imitation of a spanish accent. It brought back a memory of Zevran being highly entertained by my spanglish. Words in Antivan mimicked that of Spanish, but didn’t quite translate properly. Similarly, words in Orlesain resemble those in French, but again, not quite the same.

Viola rolled her eyes. She’d studied German in college. “Him.”

I hadn’t liked him much. They had this on again off again thing that was turning toxic when I left. Maybe he’s different? It had been a few years, people do grow, and change. Usually.

Emma had been holding me, she wasn’t crazy, she hadn’t hallucinated me fading away in her arms. I wanted to call her back and tell her that. Then the guilt hit me all over again. Was the feeling terrible about leaving ever going to stop? I didn’t voluntarily go to Thedas, though my return had been somewhat by choice.

I am the reason Emma ended up thinking she needed to see a therapist.

This is so effed up.

My parents called a little before nine in the evening. For them it was early morning in India. They were so happy to hear from me that my mother began to cry in great heaving sobs. Their tour with Doctors without Borders wouldn’t be over for another few weeks. My parents, the social climbing, career obsessed people were volunteering to help others. 

What happened while I was gone?

I went to bed in my big, full sized, modern mattress with big fluffy comforters and cotton stuffed pillows. Or, rather, I tried to. Everything from the last two days went around and around in my head, making a great big mess. Around midnight I gave up trying to get some sleep and began digging through the boxes in the far corner of my room labeled “Elyria - Dorm Room.” 

Bedding in the first one, with a couple of towels at the bottom. They smelled stale and old, but faintly of my shampoo. I’d have to wash them. The second was my clothing, all much too big now. Viola told me we’d go shopping out on Long Island over the weekend to replace everything. Things were cheaper on Long Island than they were here in the city. The last box held a random assortment of my stuff, my video game boxes haphazardly strewn, a long blue LAN wire, dried out hair, face and body products, my minimal makeup assortment all past their wear by date - I hadn’t worn eyeshadow and mascara in so long the idea of putting them on felt like a novelty - notebooks, binders and textbooks. 

My college life literally came down to three large boxes. And a laptop. I dug through some of the other stuff in my room that someone, at some point had begun to box up. They’d abandoned it long enough for the boxes to collect a decent layer of dust. More junk. Oh, this is where my stuffed animal collection went to!

By one thirty in the morning I’d almost finished separating out all the things I wanted to keep and sorted out everything I wanted to donate. My games went back on the hutch on top of my desk, and the stuffed animals went back on the shelf that hung over my bed.

Still hadn’t found my laptop. My sister had given me her chromebook though. After dragging some sheets and the comforter onto the carpeted floor, I felt at least a little bit normal. This I could sleep on. The bed itself felt like sleeping on marshmallows.

I stretched out under my makeshift bed and started up the laptop.

There was research to be done, and no one but me to do it. I started with the comic books to give myself a jumping off point. Bioware canon was making Alistair king. Interesting. This guy in the comics was definitely hardened-Alistair, and a little bit scary. For the first time I became certain softening the emotional blowback after his sister was the right thing to do. 

As I came to realize, twenty minutes later, that money grubbing bitch wasn’t his damn sister anyway. His mother wasn’t some nameless swooning serving girl entranced by the power of a king, but a Grey Warden who loved Alistair’s father. Well shit. I opened a microsoft word document and began taking notes. I would probably need them.

My buddy slept in the stables with the dogs. Emon, why did I let you live?

Links on the Dragon Age wikipedia lead to others, ending with me in so many open tabs that I lost count and the computer began to slow.

Fuck me, Sten was the  **Arishock** ? Shale and Wynne ** did** actually go to Tevinter. Wynne passed… I spent a good twenty minutes crying over her passing. Faith, the spirit of Faith, rather kept her alive beyond her time but her death stung like a bee hive in my chest.

There was so little about Zevran.

Leliana had become the left hand of the Divine. My eyes were having trouble reading at that point, being that it was around three twenty in the morning and my eyelids just wanted to droop into sleep mode. I blinked slowly a couple of times and focused on the words. My Leliana…shy, sweet, but deadly Leliana had become the left hand of the Divine. 

Okay, I’m done now. I closed the lid of the chromebook and drifted off into sleep.

When I woke the next morning, the disorientation set in again. The ceiling at home was not the same as my one in Thedas. Nor was it normal for me to wake without the smell of something cooking. It took a moment to grasp where I was and another moment to tell my fight or flight to calm down and shut off the adrenaline. Would it ever feel like waking up at home again?

I had to open the laptop to find out the time. Almost nine in the morning. I never slept this late. Ever. Not even when Alistair made a fuss and tried to dig himself in. Big burrito my buddy. The idea of Alistair wrapped up like a burrito, beans, meat and cheese around his head like a pillow left me giggling.

My sister chose that moment to knock on my door. “Hey sleepy head.”

“Morning,” I said, trying to quash the giggles.

She smiled, “What’s so funny?”

I shook my head, “I was thinking about a friend back home…” her face fell. It sobered me up quickly. “Nevermind. Sorry I got up so late.”

“You don’t have to apologize for being up at nine. You wouldn’t sleep if you didn’t need to.”

“I was up late, trying to find my laptop.”

“Mom put it somewhere in the den. Why?”

“It has all my passwords for Facebook, Twitter and Instagram.” And all of my saved games.

“Oh,” Viola said, “I was going to buy you a new one. That ones a few years old now.”

“Thank you Vi, that would be great, but I’d still need to move all my files off it.” And upload all of my saves to the Bioware website so I didn’t lose them. The last thing I needed was someone wiping my saves and losing my reality with those saves.

She opened her mouth to say something else, then closed it without a word. “I’ll order breakfast, bacon, scrambled eggs and cheese on a poppy seed roll?” 

Bacon. God I couldn’t afford bacon in Thedas. A slab of pork cost nearly seventy five silver. For that I could have gotten a whole chicken, a sack potatoes, a dozen carrots, a quart of milk and a quarter pound of cheddar. Alistair and his unholy love of cheese.

Again I missed my best friend.

“Sounds good,” I told my sister as I turned away to pick my bedding up off the floor.

“Did you sleep on the floor?” She asked coming a few feet into the room.

I shrugged, “Bed’s too soft.”

“Soldiers do that too.” She said with that suspicious tone in her voice.

I sighed once again, shaking my head. “I wasn’t a soldier.” I was a mercenary.

The doorbell rang a little after nine thirty. I knew because I was in the den trying to find my laptop, and the den had a huge vintage subway clock. In the five years that I’d been gone my family had redone the den. The huge, intimidating law books and medical books were still there, but they were surrounded by trashy romantic fiction, high fantasy and several of my science fiction books that I thought lost when they weren’t in my room. The severe dark forest green, burnished gold and wine shade of burgundy pinstriped walls were now a muted orange, like a pumpkin that hadn’t fully ripened. The floor, previously a very fluffy cream colored carpet was now dark stained, polished wood. 

“Elyria!” My sister called, “Breakfast is here.”

For a moment I thought about ignoring her. Then my stomach rumbled and demanded sustenance. “Coming!”

Foregoing finding my laptop, I headed toward the kitchen. My sister, I could see her still at the door taking a box from someone with a heavy blue hoodie and a yellow with white striped vest. She thanked the guy and closed the door. Then she grabbed a brown bag from the table near the door and came into the dining room.

“Good timing.” Viola tossed the box to me. 

I caught it one handed and cocked an eyebrow at her. “What's this?”

“A welcome home gift.”

I turned the box over reading the label. “Amazon? Doesn't one day shipping cost an arm and a leg?”

Viola stopped dishing out the food to stare at me a minute, then laughing she said, “Amazon prime has free two-day shipping.”

Still confused I began ripping the box open. “Amazon prime?”

“Preferred one or two day shipping if you pay a membership fee. Open the box.”

It was wrapped in bubble wrap envelope and covered with a shipping invoice. “What is it?”

“I remember that game you were practically obsessed with that summer before you were gone. Another game in the series came out, so I got you the game of the year edition.”

I pulled the thin black, blue, white and green game case out of the box and read the cover. Dragon Age: Inquisition.

* * *

And that folks, as they say, is that. Sequel is going to go up in a couple of days. It is already posted on ffnet if anyone wants to get a head start.

Leave me some love please. You just read five years of work.

**Author's Note:**

> The sequel will be up in a couple of days.


End file.
